Thursday, April 22nd 2004

Broadcasting LIVE! from Indianapolis, Indiana at 10/9 p.m. CT

Card subject to change without notice

Previously - As ACW's first PPV of the years draws nearer and nearer, battle cries are heard all over the organisation from young stars trying to make a name for themselves, but there are also wise heads who are making noises, and it is those noises that are being heard more than anyone else's.

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

Look For The Girl With The Broken Smile, Part One

Author - Zezu
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"He's late."

It was a statement so unbelievable, that she didn't believe it as it left her lips.

"I can't believe this."

See.

Hillary Duncan paced the arena hallway back and forth with her mobile phone in hand, but it rang out. She hung up in frustration, and then pressed redial...hoping that he had left it unattended while she had called, or even seen it light up if he had it on silent, but it was still the same end product.

No answer.

Click.

She shook her head in frustration as she made her way back to her office for this evening, as she flipped open her PocketPC and tried her best to continue the plans for the evening.

William Laguna was in Italy.

Adam Kent was late, and in the worst case scenario, awol.

Hillary was on her own, and she didn't like that one single bit.

64
Author - Oz
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There it sat. 

In his hands was the meal ticket; the contract that brought in the cash.

It was his pass to wrestle in ACW night in and night out. But more importantly, it was something he’d dreamed about since he was a child watching Jimmy “Supafly” Snuka soar off of the top rope. 

He seemed satisfied with the contract, whether it was a short or a long-term deal we did not know, but whatever it was it let him fulfill his dream. And that made him happy. He sighed, life was treating him a little better this week then it had in the ones previous to last. He had successfully picked up his first victory in his new promotion, and his relationship was once again back on track.

Cue the phone call. 

*RING*

It startled him a little, his head shot up at the sound as he reached into his jacket pocket. The leather coat hung next to him in the locker stall. He fumbled around in one of the pockets as it again alerted him that someone was attempting to speak with him. 

“Hello,” he said into the cellular device as he pressed it to his hear. 

“Hey,” she said, a smile appeared on his face. It was like they had never decided to call it off; they flowed wonderfully. It was like they never lost a step. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked. Although they weren’t ‘technically’ back together yet, it meant nothing to either of them. They were where they wanted to be, and that is where they would stay for all eternity… or so it appeared. 

“I’m looking at fares to Indiana from here,” she said, she sounded jubilant. 

“How long does it take to get there from JFK?” She asked. 

“JFK? Why are you flying out of there? Hell, why are you coming here at all?” he asked, with a little bit of shock in his voice. 

“You know this was the thing that got us off track in the first place. I don’t need that again. You’re happy there,” he said referring to New York. 

“Yeah, but you aren’t here, and you won’t be for the next few months,” she replied. She sounded sad now, this wasn’t how she had planned it was going to go. 

Glory is in Queens. I’ll be home then. It would be useless for me to come home for just a day or so,” he tried to calm her by showing her the bright side of things. 

“I still don’t understand why you can’t fly to the shows once in a while. Or even home for that matter.”

“We don’t have a TV deal yet, and this is basically a federation that’s starting from scratch. All it has is a reputation. You make money from reputations in the long run; not right away. You know how much it would cost for them to fly each individual star from place to place. Besides, I don’t mind it.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She sighed. 

“Look, it’ll go by fast. I’ll be home before you know it.” 

He couldn’t see it, but on the other end of the line she was smiling.

“I hate this just as much as you do, but the longer we go the better it will be when we see each other.” He began to smile as well. 

Countdown to reunion: 64 days. 

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

Lies, Love, and Lust Part 1

Author - Josh
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Joshua, also known as Lancett, walked in through the double-door entrance to the back of the arena from the parking lot. His gym bag draped from his left shoulder and his right arm had Abbey hanging off him. Abbey’s red fingernails where tracing his tattoo on his inner wrist, as she talked to him about random things.

“So you have fun over the weekend?” Abbey asked him.

“If you consider working out and going to photo shots fun, then yes. My personal view I need some rest and sex.” He said with a quick chuckle and looked at her.

She rolled her eyes as if she was a good girl. Keith would know that by now.

“What did you do after the event last week, babe?” Lancett asked.

“Nothing, just headed back to my dorm.” She said as she bit her lower lip nervously.

“Partying?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Here we are.” Lancett pointed out a door.

They arrived at a tall wooden door that read: William Laguna. Lancett opened the door for her and she calmly walked slowly releasing his hand. 

He followed.

Grudge Match
Vinnie Copeland Vs. Marshall
Author - Sean M
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I don't need you forgiveness,
I don't need your hate,
I don't need your reseptance,
So what can I do?

V I N N I E

I don't need your persistance,
I don't need your prayers,
I don't need no religion,
I don't need a thing from you.

COPELAND

I don't do what I've been told,
So why dont' you just go....

Die mother fucker die mother fucker die

Yup, Vinnie fuckin' Copeland the Arizonian Nightmare looking as rough as ever, and slowly making his way to the ring at that. Copeland stood at an impressive 6'3 and weighed nearly 260, a muscular freak of nature you could say, hardly impressive to the steroid pumping fags of the wrestling world, Copeland was 100% real.

Copeland stopped at the tip of the ramp to look around at the array of fans that surrounded him, immediately a capacity crowd stood to their feet and jeered the hell out of Vinnie Copeland, a hatred due to the actions Copeland has taken this past week.

On this very night, you wouldn't normally see Copeland squaring off this early, he has seemed to be saved for later in the show lately, however this night was a punishment. Vinnie did a lot of things on last weeks edition of Courage that were life threatening for ACW, Copeland fucked up on more than one occasion.

Not only did he mess a few bumps in the ring up, completely drastic, he attacked Ninja K who was being looked at medically. On a fucking stretcher. 

This guy deserved every jeer he got, and trust me, he was used like a waste paper basket because he was receiving. Fuck, he didn't care, and he showed that by a cute little flip of the double bird. He didn't need their approval, he needed to know who his opponent was and how he could rip them apart.

Copeland's match was scheduled early for some reason, by a man other than William Laguna, either way it would start off with a bang, be happy.

lead me around
nurse my broken wing
with all the promises
you can never honor

MARSHALL

I just don't care enough
to react to vain attempts
sent only to perpetuate
one's selfish little world

And that's enough of that.

Slowly but surely, Marshall without co hort the Mammoth made his way towards his path of destruction, a ring with Vinnie fuckin' Copeland, a man who had lots of anger that he was black showing tonight and would take it out on Marshall in a few minutes. Copeland stared wholes through this "Marshall" character, as he looked somewhat confident making his way down the ramp.

Marshall smiled that the fan disposition was much greater than Copeland's, pausing at some places to slap hands, Marshall put his game face on as he made his way up the steps and into the ring. Former phony A!W wrestler wasn't yet taken seriously to the ACW fans, they still thought of him as Captain Obvious. As much as he hated it, he enjoyed that the remembered his name.

Copeland swept his feet like a bull to intimidate his MUCH smaller opponent. Tonight's first bought would be a no contest, no offence Marshall but Copeland's one angry animal out to kill anything that is put up against him, as if he has something to prove.

And that bell rung, what bell? 
The ring bell retard. 
Shit.

[Note - the fat, unfamiliar ref. Thanks.]

VC charged like a bull, towards his new nemesis. Before Marshall could even jump out of the way, an array of shoulder blocks were sent to his stomach, and that didn't stop there.

Copeland decided that it was enough after Marshall was WHEEZING in pain after the sudden shoulder blocks and Copeland wanted to have some fun maneuvering his opponent, and this he would do. Out sizing him by a good half foot and 70 pounds, Copeland would definitely show the fans the brutality power wrestling skills he had. Like a guy like Vinnie Copeland needed to toss around poor Marshall, oh it's the sad reality of 
wrestling.

Marshall worked on some defense, that worked like....well wasn't exactly even noticeable, but I'm trying to be nice. Anyways, before I talk about titties any longer I might aswell make my way back to the match.

CRRAACK!

Look what you missed!!!11

A beautiful gutwrench powerbomb that was delivered better than Copeland could have to a baby, Marshall was sent onto his back before he even realised he was being moved. VC picked his opponent up, it was pathetic, he probably could have gotten away with the win there, but he decided he wasn't even close to done.

"CAP-TAIN-OB-VI-OUS"

clap clap , clapclapclap.

Nice try, fellas.

THWAP!

Marshall's body hit the mats with a power clothesline that Vinnie Copeland hardly even leaned into, this man didn't belong in the ring with Marshall, the experience and size was definitely not up to par. If anything, it should have been Mammoth to step toe to toe with this man. Marshall, out to prove he's no joke, decided to take him up on the challenge.

One...

Two...

Th....so close.

Copeland slammed his fist, he wanted to get the easy win so he could get out of here and get a nice lap dance. But no such luck, Copeland stood up and before picking the ref up by the collar, he eyed him out. A smile cracked upon the face of Copeland, he pointed and stomped his foot in laughter.

THE FANS EVEN JOINED.

They couldn't help but crack a giggle at the completely obese referee that NOBODY had seen before. Copeland tugged on some of his excess bicep skin and poked some more fun at the ref, meanwhile.

CHH!

CHH!

CHH!

CHH!

Four slaps across the chest of Vinnie Copeland, sorry guys it's the best I could do. I can't really make that slap noise, can you? Sue me.
Copeland laughed at the sight of Marshall trying to battle back. Copeland swung at him with a clothesline but Marshall ducked. Off the second turnbuckle, he jumped onto Copeland's back and went for the sleeper!

AND IT WORKED!

Like a char...ok I lied again.

Copeland laughed at the sight, Marshall couldn't even get a decent wrap around Copeland's throat, hardly enough to constrict him down to his knees. VC flipped his opponent over his back and continued to stomp on him.

"CAP-TAIN-OB-VI-OUS"

clap clap , clapclapclap.

Ok, now it's getting annoying.

"Enough! Let the little guy go!"

The obese ref was now trying to push Copeland off his opponent. Copeland again laughed in his face. The ref lightly pushed Copeland out of his face but Vinnie stayed in there like he had something to prove. The ref tried to get away but Copeland wouldn't let him. Copeland finished it up by spitting in his face than turning back to his opponent.

This was as exciting as a chicken fight. Ooooh whee!

The overhand clubs that were delivered to the back of Marshall's neck were making him budge as 
he tried to make way to his feet. He really seemed hur.....

DING!

JACKPOT!

Marshall soccer kicked Copeland and hit him straight inbetween the legs. A perfect execution to put Copeland in a much better position considering the side of Marshall. The character spread a smile of joy as Copeland doubled over and held his dick. He looked quite feminine.

EVERYBODY, POINT AND LAUGH AT THE WOMAN. Ok I'm not funny.

SMACK!

After bouncing off the opposing ropes, a knee to the face sent that sort of noise through the crowd. NOW the chanting could begin.

"CAP-TAIN-OB-VI-OUS"

clap clap , clapclapclap.

"CAP-TAIN-OB-VI-OUS"

clap clap , clapclapclap.

"CAP-TAIN-OB-VI-OUS"

clap clap , clapclapclap.

Copeland now on his knees was kicked to the side as he was laid out. Marshall continued and hit a 
Moonsault pin that wouldn't even reach a two count. Vinnie, still feeling the effects of that cheap shot was slowly making way to his feet but Marshall couldn't give up hope. 

Jumping to the ropes, was NOT good idea, he was going to aim to hit Copeland when he was standing 
to knock him back down, good tactic, but next time make sure he's more....hurt and not so....pussy attacked, Marshall.

Positive thinking now.

GET THAT MOTHER FUCK!

Vinnie, now standing, still one hand on the dick searched for his opponent, look UP. A senton bomb that hit Copeland when he was dazed walking through the middle sent him back, delivered more damage to Marshall, who was now getting up. Vinnie caught sight of the little bugger.

Reverse Dragon Sleeper!

(DDT with legs wrapped around stomach)

Ouch.

Yeah, lots of Ouch.

Marshall wheezed, screamed, shook, pounded...had a temper tantrum if you will. Vinnie Copeland loved it, he knew that he was bringing pain to others, and the fans.

"COPE-LAND SUCKS!"

"COPE-LAND SUCKS!"

"COPE-LAND SUCKS!"

"COPE-LAND SUCKS!"

Okay, okay. Lights out.

This was now time to finish off the match.

As Marshall wheezed in pain, Copeland laughed at the referee again, whilst picking his opponent up because he was now getting bored, like most of the fans. 

Death Valley Driver position....

...

...

...

NO CONDOLENCE!

CRRRAACCCK!

...

...

...

...

-Fan grimace-

Yeah..exactly that.

...

..Marshall laid on the ground, no even point or hope to kick out, he might aswell just let the 
beast take the win and save himself from a visit to the hospital and excruciating pain. I don't think it was going to go THAT easy.

But, don't forget that ONE thing.

The kick to the head during the DVD position swing into the inverted powerslam down. Yeah, the 
fat referee was still on the ground, kinda made the fans laugh to see a fat guy roll around. Copeland wouldn't take to it nicely. Copeland stood and revived the referee who stood and was slow to make Copeland's count.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE....NOOOOOOO!

*crowd pop*

FOR MARSHALL?

Damn skippy.

;)


The ref should have made the count, but didn't for some reason. Copeland stood and looked over at the ref, who seemed fine now. VC retreated back to his opponent who was not even close to 
making it to his feet, but slowly stirring in approach to what would soon be that way. Copeland got into the face of what seemed to be an ailing referee.

Copeland screamed in the face of this obese ref, who didn't really have much sense in him, he was 
kicked pretty hard. But that happens to fat people, they get hurt and don't recover until they chew into a Twinkie...heaven. Just kidding, of course.

The crowd stood to their feet as Marshall made it to his feet completely.


GREEN MIST!


WHAT THE FUCK?


OBVIOUS NECK PAIN!


Marshall got his finisher off and fully completed. 


ONE!

TWO!

THREE!


Where the FUCK did the mist come from?


The slow, ailing, obese ref had a trick up his sleeve. This man, who was now rolled out of the 
ring, looked for the closest foreign object he could find at this very time. A metal chair.

Copeland definitely had the strength to over come him and he would need SOME defence.


Copeland was still shocked, laid in the ring.

Marshall couldn't believe it. He actually beat Copeland, and he didn't even understand HOW. His 
finisher was open for the kill and so was Copeland, via some mist from an "obese" ref.


Copeland, slowly standing to his feet looked across the ring, an obvious blur filled his head 
because he was constantly rubbing his eyes. Who the shit just spit the mist into his eyes? I bet 
you can't piece it the fuck together.

As Copeland made it to his feet, he was crowned with multiple Rose Stem Shots all over the head and body.


CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

After a concession of four straight shots to the head, the referee began to tug and pull at his 
face. 

Zuh?

...

...

...

NINJA FUCKING K!

...

...

WHAT ZUH PHOCK!!!???

Given the disguise of an overweight referee, the slender form of a fully battle dressed ninja now 
stood in a ring, above the man laid out in a pool of his own blood. Copeland hadn't even opened his eyes to know that Ninja K had just gotten his revenge.

You should have known Ninja K would have over come this.

He's taken so much more before, a little beat up scratch and "trip" to the hospital was nothing. A few bumps in the ring wouldn't hurt him none. 

This was Kenshiro fuckin Inogami, NOBODY can put him out of action, and that's no fuckin' 
understatement.


Rose petals, dumped via Kenshiro all over the what appeared to be "dead" Vinnie Copeland. 
Covered not only in the dark red mixture of his own, heart pumped blood, but also in the red 
petals, Copeland didn't look like he was going to move any time soon.

This signified death, and this is what happened - or appeared to have in this ring on this very 
night. To think, this was only the first showing, your in for one action packed night. And it 
didn't appear like the Arizonian Nightmare was joining the festivities, either.

Using his index finger, scrawling the Japanese symbol of DEATH across Copeland's waste land of a body was the last operation before exiting the ring. Kenshiro Inogami got his revenge from last week, in a VERY noticeable way.

As Linkin Park preformed "Nobody's Listening" 
there was a monstrous crowd pop for none other 
than Ninja K. He had done it again.

-Fin. 

WINNER : Marshall

Against The Odds
Author - [K]
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So, it was a rather warm night in Indianapolis.

And with this being the night of the latest edition of Courage, things would only heat up as the night progresses. Backstage, standing in front of a chainlink fence that serves as a supposedly-cool background, reporter Vespar MacPeterson had a microphone in his hand. You'd expect someone to be by his side, right?

You're sadly mistaken.

"Good evening, ladies and gents. I'm Vespar MacPeterson, soon-to-be critically acclaimed anime writer. I have an important update for all ACW fans, and it concerns the Television and Scorpion Fighting Champion, Quinton May!" Vespar began, solemnly, immediately garnering the attention of all watching this on the video wall in the arena.

Vespar continued after a slight pause to gather his thoughts, "It appears as if Quinton May will NOT be in attendence tonight. This is due to what can only be described as a malicious and pre-meditated attack on the Canadian Gladiator.

Last week, a couple of hours after Courage went off the air in Cleveland, Quinton May was found to be a bloodied mess near a shopping mall in the vicinity of his hotel room.

That's just the tip of the iceberg, though.

It seems as if Quinton May was crucified. To a tree, no less! Reports at this point are still quite sketchy, but Quinton has not been cleared to show up and compete tonight. I myself have no idea how long he will take to recover from that heinous attack, but one thing is for sure.

Every bit of evidence recovered from the scene indicates that it was a member of the ACW roster who subjected Quinton May to this absolutely shambolic and evil act!"

Wow, he seemed passionate.

Taking yet another break to calm himself down, Vespar clenched his free hand, like as if he felt like hitting someone. In the stands, huge jeers could be heard following the dissemination of this breaking news regarding Quinton May. Massive outpour of concern came in a close second.

Then, suddenly, cheers.

Vespar was confused. He opened his eyes and looked up.

"Oh... my... Lord."

No, it wasn't Jesus Christ that was standing in front of Vespar. Although it could have been, since the people were cheering and the person that was now growling at Vespar WAS crucified.

But, no.

It was... QUINTON MAY!

Bundled up in bandages and woolly clothing, Quincy looked like shite. That could be expected of someone who was bashed up mercilessly and left to die like a dog on the street, but there was that renewed charge in Quinton's eyes. Made Vespar more frightened that he already was. What a baby. Stupid Vespar.

"If I could survive a bomb blast, I can survive a childish crucifixtion." Quincy Mama murmured to Vespar ever so softly, before the Rising Star hobbled away from the scene. Probably in search of William Laguna, Vespar thought as he collected himself and stumbled away from the scene. Before the idiot realised Laguna wasn't in attendance.

Quinton was, though, against the odds.

But, why?

Say What?
Author - Oz
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No television deal. 

No multi-million dollar contracts. 

Just wrestling, and a loyal group of followers. It epitomized everything ACW stood for. It signified everything ACW was. 

And this man was ACW through and through. 

'Judith' by A Perfect Circle brought the crowd to life. Who was this? A new face in the federation stepped through the curtain. Welcome Rome the Vile. 

The fans didn’t know who he was at the time, but they eventually picked it up. They had heard about this man. The recovering cocaine addict who was now on the road to recovery; good for him they thought. A success story in an ironic, and a tragedy filled tale was this man. He knew full well what he was when he rolled under the ring ropes. But above all of his hardships and tribulations, he was a wrestler; he was a champion. 

His music was cut as the speakers in the arena gave way to the sound of Rome checking the microphone that he had been handed. 

He cleared his throat, “Since it’s inception ACW has been about wrestlers who work hard and are immensely talented. It’s been about making champions of these rare walks of life. And breaking people who only believe they fall into this category.” He paused for a second, waiting for the crowd to let his previous statements soak in. 

“But, now that the ‘Second Coming’ of sorts has dawned upon us, it seems ACW is about second chances. And I for one am here to cash in on my second chance, you see I had and still have an addiction,” again he paused, reliving the many memories of the drug that almost consumed his entire life, “the addiction will probably never leave my side. It’s a second shadow, if you will. However, I am on the road to recovery. I have survived my addiction, and through strength, and a hell of a lot of courage, I am now able to see passed my problems. That is why I am here in ACW,” he paused one more time, letting the statement again sink into the minds of the fans. 

However, the pause was short lived, as the sound of “Until the End of Time” by Tupac began to play over the sound system. The debut Joshua had hoped would go over smoothly was now being prematurely ended by one Simian Kade.

Kade slowly marched onto the stage, microphone in hand. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t old powder nose,” Kade smirked the way of Vile. Joshua’s expression was not a pleasant one. Who did Simian think he was? 

“I’m only joking with you. I admire your strength and courage for surviving your addiction,” Kade nodded. 

There was no response from Rome. 

“Now, look bud, I didn’t come here to rain on your parade. God forbid, I don’t usually crash raves… I’m sorry, raves are tied in with Ecstasy. … Do you do that stuff too?” Kade chuckled a little, he wasn’t one to stop before he took things too far. 

Again, there was no response from Joshua. 

“Ok, Ok, Ok, enough with the drug jokes. But, in all seriousness, the reason I came out tonight was too ensure that you hadn’t forgotten about our match tonight,” Kade looked down at Rome who looked a little confused, “there isn’t anything worse then kicking some unsuspecting guy’s ass, now is there?”

“What match?” Rome said, with genuine confusion. 

“Our match. Laguna booked it last week,” Kade replied. 

“I wasn’t told about any match. Hell, I’m not even supposed to be wrestling tonight,” Rome said thinking this was a bit of a joke. 

“Look, I don’t care what you’re supposed and not supposed to be doing. I’m not going to lose ring time just because some idiot in the back screwed this up.” Kade threatened, “I’m gonna go back there, and I’m gonna get Laguna to tell you personally that you and I are going to face each other tonight.” 

Kade dropped the microphone on the stage, and stormed off into the back. It left the crowd as well as Rome a little dumbfounded.

“What the fu-“ Rome muttered as he dropped his own microphone as the curtain swayed from Simian hastily departing. 

Another Brick in the Wall
Author - Wilk
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Switching over to the backstage area, the fans of the arena were greeted to none other then... well, an unopened, burgundy door with the word ‘Exit’ written on it.

But, rest assured, there was a point to that door.

And that point was realized when none other then… some random guy, wearing an old Soundgarden shirt, tripping over the step beneath the door and dropping the wires he was carrying.

Maybe there wasn’t a point to…

“Get the fuck out of my way!”

Well… never mind.

Volker Baldwin shoved the guy down as he was bent over, trying to pick up his cargo. He fell forward on his hands and rolled over to see the source of his push. Volker never turned around. He just kept walking forward, on some sort of mission.

“Asshole.” the man whispered under his breath as he got to his feet.

Volker’s face seemed to be in a constant state of anger; painted in a pale red, breathing heavy and relentless, bulged eyes never bothering to blink. He had come to ACW expecting to excel over all the other so-called athletes.

Instead he found himself dealing with an invisible rival, lying undercover in the depths of a mystery with no clues.

And if that wasn’t enough…

“Volker Baldwin?”

Volker stopped in his tracks, glared his eyes upwards coldly, and turned around quickly to get this over with.

“Who the fuck are…”

“I’m Officer Alderman.” said a man in a black suit with a red tie, pulling a badge out of his pocket. “This is Officer Cleffberg. We’re here to talk to you about the incident that took place on last weeks show.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well we’ve received word that a man by the name of Louie Bandry has pressed charges against you.”

“And who the fuck, may I ask, is…”

“He’s the man whose head you cracked open with the chair you just decided to toss into an audience filled with innocent bystanders.” yelled Cleffberg, fed up with the hostility. “That’s who ‘the fuck he is’.”

“We’ve been ordered to come down here and get you. Tomorrow you’ll be taken to Cleveland where the rest of this…”

“Hey, fuck that!” replied Volker loudly.

“You don’t have a choice, Mr. Baldwin. You have to come with us…”

“I don’t have time for this shit! Why don’t you two just fuck off now and…”

And, just as Volker shoved Cleffberg with a push against his chest, Cleffberg twisted Volker’s hand around. Volker pushed Cleffberg off with a trust of his legs, throwing Cleffberg against the brick wall behind him.

He was about to jump on him and lay some fists into his face, but Alderman was able to slap cuffs on Volker’s right hand and over around to the left one.

“As I said, you don’t have a choice.” Alderman said. “And if you just come with us and calm the fuck down, we won’t add in assaulting a police officer.”

Volker growled, pulled Alderman’s hands off of the cuffs, and started walking in the direction Alderman and Cleffberg led him in.

And the man with the Soundgarden shirt walked passed him, the wires over his shoulder and a grin on his face.

See.

I told you there was a point to all this shit. 

Not an Interview with a Vampire
Author - Chris M
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The scene cut backstage in a generic fashion to reveal Chris Messiah standing outside his locker-room door, with an expression of extreme displeasure on his beautiful face. There was also some chocolate on each side of his mouth, but don’t tell him that, otherwise he might become more embarrassed than he already is. It seems that the reason that Chris was standing there was because he was about to get interviewed. My reasons for thinking that are because I’m writing this segment, so I know what’s going to happen.

“So, Chris, how has life been for you these first few weeks in ACW?” quizzed whatever his name is.

“To tell you the truth Bob – can I call you Bob? – to tell you the truth Gabe, I’m not having a good time of it. When I was in thReat, I was the locker-room leader. Sure, nobody talked to me apart from my good buddy Joe Soap, and of course Commissioner Colin Gear, but the writing on my name tag said ‘Locker-Room Leader,’ so I definitely was. Fair enough, I made the name tag myself, and the writing on the pieces of paper that the other wrestlers sellotaped to the back of my shirt said things like ‘Asshole,’ or ‘I LOVE the cock,’ but I’ll believe what I want to believe. Wait, what was the question?”

“I asked you how life had been for you during your stay in ACW so far, but you seem fixated about thReat.”

“I’m not fixated about thReat, where I happened to be the last ever thReat International champion. I’m not fixated at all. I loved thReat. I was going to be thReat's next superstar. But I'm not fixated with thReat in any way. To answer your question, thReat, I haven’t enjoyed my stay in ACW so far at all. A fortnight ago, nobody wanted to wrestle me in my much-hyped debut match, which led me to have to bring in Jobbers Inc. for the spectacular. It was lucky I found them, because someone had left all their contact details on a piece of paper sellotaped to my back, and then when I called them up, they were already at the arena. I think it's unfair to call them jobbers, with dedication like that. And then of course I got jumped from behind in the bathroom afterwards – fortunately my anal wall was not breached – and then last week, Quinton May somehow bent the rules to make me lose the Scorpion Fighting championship match just as I was about to turn the screw and beat him. I hate it when bad things happen, especially to me.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest Chris, you haven’t exactly endeared yourself to the other ACW superstars since your arrival, have you? It’s no wonder nobody wanted a match with you two weeks ago. Now, have you heard the news concerning Quinton May?”

“What news?”

“You mean you haven’t heard the news?”

“There’s news?”

“Yes, the awful news about Quinton May.”

“Who?”

“You’re trying to tell me that you haven’t heard the horrible, quite disgusting, unthinkably terrible news concerning the current Scorpion Fighting and Television champion?”

“You mean that he’s Canadian?”

“What? I’m Canadian. What are you suggesting?”

“What are you suggesting? What the hell are we talking about?”

“So you don’t visit Internet wrestling news websites, no?”

“No, no, I don’t do that anymore. Not since my 16-year-old girl scheme was rumbled and I was banned from using a computer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just get to the news. So, David May has quit Manchester United?”

“Eh?”

“Canadians are funny. They go ‘eh.’”

“Quinton May was found during the passed week crucified.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“I was wondering if you had anything to do with it, or know anything about it.”

“Are you accusing me of ripping-off Pontus Pilate’s idea? I’m Mr. Originality, buddy. If I want to inflict injury on somebody, I’ll do it in a way that hasn’t been done before, like running them over with a rental car. Don’t you dare accuse me of copying someone else’s idea. Fair enough, I may have released an album of cover songs originally sung by popular artists such as Neil Diamond, Shania Twain and Hanson, but my vocals took those tracks in whole new directions…”

“Are you trying to avoid answering the question?”

“… and it sold at least a dozen copies – psychedelic. And yes. No, I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Quinton May, and nobody around here has any reason to suggest I did.”

Just at that moment, the resident Scotsman on the roster, Phil “Sir Sexyalot but not so much these days” Atken reared his ugly head.

“Actually, Chrisicakes, I happen to have video evidence of you in action last week, which I think you will find to be very interesting. Oh; and how’s the head? Throbbing I hope.”

“Listen Phil, I didn’t know those two girls were transsexuals at the time. I would never have recorded those three home movies with them on separate nights if I had of known the truth.”

“Just what are you talking about, sillykins? I meant that I have video footage concerning you that you will find interesting.”

“What’s on that video footage, Phil? Does it show who the perpetrator is?” asked the interviewer guy.

“All I know is my gut says maybe. Wink, wink.”

Uh-oh spaghetti-o. 

On a Throne
Author - Aaron, perhaps Ray.
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It was the same thing as always. A car pulled into the garage, beside a gigantic truck with the ACW logo painted on the side. Other cars littered the arena like bottles on an alcoholic's floor As the car's engine cut off, the fan's anticipation as to who this car might belong to grew. Slowly, the car door opened and out emerged a man who the fans had grown to hate. Ville Azure. The Bad Seed.

As the boos rang throughout the arena and Ville began to walk toward a pair of double doors, surrounded by crates and equipment, a voice called out toward him. The voice was the one he was dreading to hear tonight. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked over his shoulder where Kraig Carter stood. 

With a bubble pipe in mouth and an obvious cockiness at an all-time high, Kraig began to make his way toward Ville. You see, in the long run, the problem with this situation was that Ville was too smart for his own good. He knew that if whatever Carter had blackmailed him with was good enough, it could potentially ruin him for the rest of his life. Even though Ville was rather different, he was just like everybody else when it came to the need to eat and have shelter.

“So,” Kraig said, puffing away at his bubble pipe. If the situation had been different, Ville would have been considering shoving that pipe down his throat. But, of course, this was no time to consider that. “Do we still have a deal as far as everything goes?”

Slowly, Ville nodded his head.

“Good,” Kraig said, grinning widely. “Then come this way.”

It was going to be a long, long night.

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

Look For The Girl With The Broken Smile, Part Two

Author - Zezu
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He swaggered into the boss' office, not even making eye contact.

He pulled up a chair, and placed his laptop on the adjacent table, powering it up.

Hillary Duncan looked on.

Amazed.

"Where the hell have you been Adam, you were due in the building over four hours ago, and you didn't even have the balls to call either, I want answers."

Kent sniggered.

"Hillary, calm down, I'm here now. It's all good right?"

Kent smirked, he had this girl in his pocket.

Duncan hesitated, another sign of his victory.

"OK, just get to work and I won't report this to William."

He smiled.

"No problem, boss."

C.H.E.A.T.E.D - That Spells Title Shot?
Author - MikeL
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Bantam Diablo walked out from the curtains as Thunderstruck by AC/DC was being played over the speakers. BD walked down to the ring, he had bandages around his head. Battle wounds from last week’s attack from Alex Draper. The fans gave some mild cheers and hopped into the ring, taking a microphone out of his pocket.

He wasn’t wasting any time. “Last week I was cheated. C-H-E-A-T-E-D out of my match against Quinton May for the Television title!”

The fans cheered louder at the mention of the Television title’s name. BD ignored them and continued talking to the crowd. “Alex Draper has been nothing but a dingle berry on my hairy ass ever since ACW decided to sign a contract with me.

“What do I have to prove to you Draper? I already beat you, what more can I do? The situation is out of my hands, it’s not my fault you aren’t good enough to compete with The Masked Marvel.” BD grinned.

Bartender by (Hed) P.E. played over the speakers and Alex Draper emerged at the top of the steel ramp. And yes, he had his own microphone.

“Can’t compete with you Diablo?” Draper began to walk slowly down the ramp, his eyes set on BD in the ring. “You’re right, it’s pretty hard to compete with somebody when their not even in the same league as you are!

“The statistics say you’re on a losing streak BD, two in a row. You sure you don’t want to make it three?” Draper questioned from just outside the ring. Alex motioned to the wrap around BD’s head. “Even looks like you have a nice souvenir from your last loss.”

BD motioned for Draper to get in the ring. “If you want to be beat like a two cent hooker from Cleveland all you have to do is ask.”

Draper back peddled away from the ring with a coy expression on his face. “The offer is tempting Bantam, but I have bigger fish to fry tonight.”

“Like what?”

“I have myself a title shot.” Draper smiled as he imagined BD face beneath his mask. “Next time we see each other, maybe I’ll let you see it.” 

Grudge Match
Jesse Ramey Vs. Bantam Diablo
Author - Zezu
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A lost match...

Jesse Ramey Vs. Bantam Diablo has been a match in a previous show, but was only a tester for the crowd. The ACW top dogs wanted to try a few things with the match, so they didn't show it on TV, but now it was time to see a forgotten match...or was it.

The crowd in the arena watched the screen as the graphics showed both wrestlers in battle ready poses, but that was all they looked at.

No music.

No referee.

No wrestlers.

The fans had no clue.

And neither did the ACW staff.

WINNER : What Winner?

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

Oh SHIT!

Author - Zezu
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Dougal scrambled through his tape collection, as Donald wiped his brow of perspiration.

"Where the fuck is it knobhead?!" said the English Media Director of ACW.

Dougal gave his partner a cold look as he went back to his mission; find the fucking tape.

"Where did you have it last, retrace your steps mate."

Dougal had had enough.

"OK, this morning I woke up beside your mother and then..."

THUMP~!

A jab to the arm.

"I'll keep looking then."

Tapes and cd's flew all over the room before he lifted his arms, in joy.

"YAS! Got it...oh."

He produced from a cardboard box, two tapes, neither of them marked.

"OK...lemme think, I'm sure that Adam Kent gave me this one," he lifted one, but the quickly looked at the other. "Although, it could have been this one."

"Gimme it!" Donald snatched a tape off of his counterpart, he didn't know what was on it, but he needed to put something on the screen...and that he did.

Grudge Match
Jesse Ramey Vs. Bantam Diablo
Author - Zezu
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NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

SSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

"What the fuck?"

Men, woman and children covered their ears in horror as random screeching noises came from the almighty ACW speakers, and then it was quickly stopped, and a blank screen appeared.

Discusses went on and ears were rubbed, but not before long, the screen took some sort of action, as we went to the backstage area for a segment...

WINNER : Don't Ask Me...

Kiss me...
Author - Zach
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CRASH!

That was the sound of Volker being smashed off the hood of a car. Volker was restless, kicking and throwing his body around. 

“Fuck off you fucking dicks!” Volker shouted at the police officers. 

“Sir, you are going to have to calm down.”

“Kiss me…”

“What? Why?”

“… Because I like to be kissed while I am getting fucked!” Volker screamed in both of the cop’s faces. A cop grabbed Volker by the arm and Volker threw all his weight around causing the cop to smash off the car door. The other cop pulled out his nightstick and whacked Volker in the head with it. 

CRASH!

This time it was the sound on Volker’s head crashing into the ground. With no hand to catch your body it is hard to keep your head from hitting the ground. 

The cops grabbed Volker’s stunned body and threw him in the back seat of the car. Volker half stunned not really knowing what’s was going on any more. He looked around in the car and realized what happened all over again. Volker looked down and it feet and said, “Fuck.”

"It Ain't Good Business" - Geo Vacton
Author - George
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“Geo, you’re right… Those guys are crazy, and a little bit nuts. Truth be told, they ought to be locked up. What were they in their old place? Clowns or something like that? Whatever they were, they’re dumb. They’re not worth our time. We got bigger things to deal with… like championships, endorsements and sponsorships, baby!! 

So forget about them losers. Let bygones be bygones, right?” Magick Man reasoned with Geo Vacton who desperately wanted a match with either the Mammoth or Marshall. Hell, if he had it his way he’d take on them both at the same time.

“No.” Geo said, starting to stand. “Magick, get me a match with those two. Tonight. And in all seriousness Magick, if you don’t book me a match then I’m just gonna start my own backstage… Just like they did last week.”

Magick sighed. “Geeeooo… it ain’t good business! Tell me, you laying your hands on them two… What’re we gonna gain? Absolutely nothing! We’re gonna be no better off than we were before… And in fact, it’ll be a set back. A waste of time. Time is money, Geo. You know that.”

Geo shuck his head. 

“Magick… None of this is about any money, any profit, any gain… Nothing. There’s no business here, there’s no politics, dude. All I want is a match… And hey, if you can’t get me it… Then, well, I guess I‘m gonna go do this without a match.” And with that Geo rushed out of the room.

“Geo! Wait! Where’re you going?!” Magick yelled after him trying to catch up to him. But it's pointless, Magick can't run in those khakis... 

Grudge Match
Chris Messiah Vs. Fejona Min
Author - [K]
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Hi, hello. Welcome back. This match will be commercials-free.

Or so I was told. We'll find out, eh? The crowd were quick to launch into a haze of jeering as the intensity of the house lights went down a notch, and "Bitter Sweet Symphony (James Lavelle Instr'mental Remix)" by THE VERVE began to blare over the speakers. Unlike past weeks, the jeering wasn't so generic.

The hate that had been amassed for CHRIS MESSIAH was slowly reaching frightening levels.

He strutted out from the back, avoiding eye-contact with the crowd for one reason or the other, and rapidly made his way down the ramp, eager to get on with the match. This would be his chance to make up for the inability to claim the Scorpion Fighting Title last week, even if he did think he'd won.

Now in the middle of the ring, Chris raised his arms in the air and stuck his tongue out, not endearing himself to the crowd. Like he cared what they thought. I liked him so much better when he was in thReat; only because he had an awesome winning streak going on there, and his hair was styled better.

Anyways, the music was quickly faded out, and next on the DJ's list was...

... "Lucky You" by the Deftones.

The jeering still lingered in the air, as the Asylum Women's Champ brushed past the curtains aggressively and briskly made her way down the ramp. Chris Messiah ogled at Min, while the crowd began debating why Fejona hadn't been present last week. Actually, from my vantage point, they were actually debating over; why she'd bothered to show up again following her defeat to Geo Vacton two weeks ago, and how big her tits were.

I must say, I enjoyed the second debate more thoroughly.

Fejona -- donning a *tight* white tanktop with short sleeves, black silk pants, and sporting no footwear at all -- wasted no time in climbing into the ring. Chris Messiah smacked his lips and continued to check Fejona out, being the lecherous lecher that he was, while Min cracked her knuckles and waited for the referee to get proceedings underway.

One problem.

There was no referee.

Nevertheless, the timekeeper rang for the bell (*DING DING DING*) and the confused pair of competitors in the ring (foursome if you count Fejona's shapely tits as seperate entities) began to circle each other. The crowd too were perplexed, as to why there was no sanctioned official in the ring, but their attention soon diverted to Chris Messiah and Fejona Min getting tangled in a grapple tie-up.

Almost seconds after, Chris slithered out of there with the advantage in the form of a side headlock. Fejona swiftly fought back with several punches to Messiah's gut, before crashing a forearm into the side of Chrissy's ribs. The former thReat International Champion flinched, and momentarily found himself in a side headlock.

He didn't complain, since Messiah had a good view of Fejona's tits.

Not for long, as Fejona Min spun around, slapping on a waistlock. Before Chris could even retaliate with an elbow shot, the tA Women's Champ demonstrated just how much strength she could muster up, going for what appeared to be a German suplex. Mad props to Chris, though, for SOMEHOW landing on his feet.

Naturally, Fejona is surprised.

But as she turns around, Messiah kicks her in the ribs and floors her with a snap suplex. Chris retains his grip on Fejona's head and swings his hips, a'la Eddie Guerrero, and pulls Fejona up again. With a sneer to the crowd, Messiah lifts the Cambodian Femme Fatale up, sneaks a peek at her tits, then plants her with a classic stalling suplex.

Following which, the cover is made.

ONE.

TWO.

THREE.

FOUR.

FIVE.

... Yeah, the referee was still missing in action.

Visibly upset, Chris Messiah peeled himself off of the Enchanting Delinquent and staggered over to the ropes, screaming at the timekeeper and the announcers. Hoping that something will happen, so that he could go on and win the match. But, all he got were shrugs in response.

Chris was mad.

He got even madder when he turned around and Fejona took advantage of the fact that there was no referee, punching Messiah in the groin, before she sprung up to her feet and knocked the wind out of the former thReat International Champion with a hurricaranna. It looked a wee bit sloppy, but the fans were impressed nonetheless. Week after week of shoddy WWE programming will do that to you, I guess.

Um, back to the match. Fejona now had control of the contest, kicking away at Chrissy's right arm, obviously working towards a possible submission. Interesting. Chris too is a submissions expert, like Fejona. Not in the bedroom, of course, although Messiah would probably tell you that he's a sexgod.

SO, Fejona pulled Chris up and struck with a swift throat thrust, before whipping him into the ropes. A spinning heel kick was on the cards, but in a show of grace, he rolled underneath her and jumped to his feet, using his momentum to take him into the ropes. Min spun around, and Messiah promptly KEEELED her with a clothesline. The hicks and shemales in the audience (thanks Atken!) continued to jeer, while Messiah looked around, still wondering about the referee.

And once again, Chrissy's Attention Deficit Disorder proved to be his undoing. For when he turned around and tried to whip the recovered Fejona into the ropes, the Cambodian Femme Fatale reversed it, and heaped on the pressure with a hiptoss.

Old-school, ain't it?

Messiah found himself in even more trouble, with Fejona Min taking him down with an armdrag mere seconds later. Struggling to his feet, Chris found the crowd cheering, and the Enchanting Delinquent patiently waiting for him as he turned around.

And what did she do?

Drop-toe-hold. Which was followed up with a crossface submission a heartbeat later.

The result was instant. Chris Messiah tapped, and the crowd went ballistic. However, those cheers died down when two things settled in the feeble minds of the fans. One, it was Fejona Min they were cheering for. And two, the referee was STILL missing in action.

This 'injustice' forced Fejona Min to relinquish the hold and do as Chris Messiah did moments ago. Again, to no avail, as the timekeeper and the announcers simply shrugged, the match still progressing without any hint of order. The Women's Champ of theAsylum turned around, flustered, and immediately sought to take Messiah down again as the latter, having recovered, charged at her with a loud growl.

Another crossface submission! Yay!

Uhhh, no. Messiah countered it halfway, smashing his fist into Fejona's face, knocking her into the ropes. And being the opportunist that he was, Chris picked Fejona up as she bounced off the ropes, slamming her down to the canvas in a vicious powerslam. Floating over, an angered Messiah began to unleash with a flurry of punches.

Just as a referee, FINALLY, appeared from behind the curtains and raced down the ramp.

Chrissykins saw this and pulled Fejona up by the hair, catching her with several stiff hooks to the face, before whipping her across the ring, and into the turnbuckle. The impact of which saw the Enchanting Delinquent stumble out of there with her back arched, but unfortunately for Min, Chris would get another sniff of her tits.

And at the same time, score with a belly-to-belly suplex.

With the referee now in the ring, the first actual count could be made;


ONE.


TWO.


THR - SHOULDER UP!


Aye, Fejona Min got the shoulder up at the last possible second, and Chris Messiah pouted. The referee, already embarrased for having shown up late, shirked away from the scene as quickly as possible, realising that the volatile Chrissykins was glaring at him in a very antagonistic way.

Either that, or Chris has decided that he's a homo. We'll stick with the former for now.

Picking Fejona Min up, Messiah clocked her with several more strikes to the face, before whipping her into the ropes. Just as Min's spine made contact with the ropes, Chris lunged forward and attempted a dropkick.

To little success, as the one they call the Callous Slayer hung on to the ropes, proving that despite being a rookie in the squared circle, she was a quick learner. With Messiah crashing down to the canvas, head and spine bearing the brunt of the missed dropkick, Fejona Min hoisted herself onto the top rope and balanced herself perfectly.

Before taking flight... and oblitering Messiah with a moonsault.

If she wasn't such an evil vixen, the fans would have been going 'HOLY SHIT' right about now. As it were, the Enchanting Delinquent almost hurt herself in the process, but she was still able to make the cover, as the referee counted;


ONE.


TWO.


THRE - OOOOH, SO CLOSE!


Chris Messiah had *just* managed to kick out, and a frustrated Fejona Min growled at the referee, wanting to argue her case. She decided against it, and pulled Chris up, chuckling at how dazed he was.

Then, a knife-edged chop. Make that two chops. Fejona now adopted a karate stance, letting her right leg fly with several kicks to the ribs and the legs of Chrissykins. The former thReat International Champ tried desperately to block, but with minimal success. In fact, he was so bad at it that he left one very important part of his anatomy exposed.

His head.

SMACK

A HUGE roundhouse kick knocked Chris Messiah backwards, and a trickle of blood dribbled down his chin. Fejona Min's eyes gleamed as she spun around and kneeled, before charging forward, toward her opponent, about ready to claim the victory.

But, somehow, Chris Messiah hit the duck, and Fejona Min's spear attempt was in vain. Her shoulder got acquianted with the steel ring post, and the crowd actually acted as if they were concerned for the Enchanting Delinquent. Perhaps because they felt that she was just about one move away from winning.

As she turned around, however, Fejona Min fell to the charm of Chris Messiah. In the form of a double underhook backbreaker, that Messiah affectionately calls 'Gravity Grave'.

The cover? You bet. Messiah hooked the legs, too;


ONE.


TWO.


THREE!


The referee, regardless of his lateness, had made the count, and Chris Messiah was declared the winner. Messiah shoved the referee away, though, as he stood to his feet. Instead, he raised his own arms in the air, much to the chagrin of the crowd.

The disappointment of last week's defeat was now but a distant memory.

Suddenly, though, a section of the fans cheered. Rather inexplicably, especially since Chrissykins was doing some sort of celebratory jig, much like what Rene Dupree does in his matches.

Only one reason for that strange phenomenon. The fans cheering, I mean.

Something cool was going to happen?

WINNER : Chris Messiah

Let The Bodies Hit The Floor
Author - [K]
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Yes, something did happen. The lights being cut was a testament to that.

Want more convincing?

How about... "Deep Purple" by Perfect Strangers starting up and annoying the living fuck out of everyone in attendance? None more so than Chris Messiah, of course.

The lights slowly came back on and there he was. PHIL ATKEN, at the top of the ramp. With a goofy grin plastered on his face and a steel chair in his possession. Fejona Min had done the smart thing (that rhymes!) and hightailed out of the ring through the crowd, not wanting any part of what was potentially about to explode. It was no secret to everyone watching and in attendance that there was friction between Atken and Messiah.

Nobody quite knew why.

Nobody quite cared, all of a sudden, when four men slid into the ring and jumped Chris Messiah, who was busy taunting Atken to come on down. The fact that the video wall was broadcasting Phil's raunchy entrance video made it impossible for Chris to anticipate what was going to befall him.

Then, a wise-ass in the crowd shouted; "HEY, THOSE FOUR JOKERS LOOK FAMILIAR!". Much to Phil's amusement.

And as YOUR Entertainment Saviour sauntered down the ramp, waving his chair around before climbing into the ring, everybody began to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The attack that Chris Messiah was subjected to about two weeks ago? It was a case left unsolved, right?

Not any longer, you Sherlock wannabes.

Mike Rogers. Gayber. White Rash. The Superdooperstar. Four men who made their 'impressive debuts' on ACW programming two weeks ago. Coincidence? Maybe not. But, wait, they all wrestled Chris Messiah on their debuts. And LOST.

Now, THAT is a coincidence.

Plus, with Phil Atken directing traffic, Chris Messiah was finally aware of what was really going on. Before Gayber's smelly foot crashed into his jaw and almost knocked him out.

The A! Champion had been the mastermind behind Messiah's backstage attack two weeks ago, and he'd gotten Jobbers Inc to do his dirty work for him. Chris wasn't sure why, and neither did the crowd, but that was immaterial now. The bell was ringing repeatedly now, serving as a plea to the back to get some assistance down to the ring. Messiah was floundering in a pool of his own blood now, but Atken was still giving out orders to Jobbers Inc.

Until the lights dimmed again.

... "Make A Move" by Lostprophets.

The other 'suspect' behind Messiah's beatdown two weeks ago, who was also the victim of a heinous prank last week, was now charging down the ramp. He'd seen enough, and apparently, he had a feeling that Atken and Messiah had something to do with his crucifixtion last week.

Quinton May, ladies and gentlemen. Let the bodies hit the floor.

Sliding into the ring, Quinton was quick to knock the snot out of White Rash with a harsh clothesline, before knocking The Superdooperstar down with another clothesline. Gayber was ordered by Atken to take care of the Canadian Gladiator, but Quincy Mama didn't break a sweat as he suplexed Gayber OUT OF THE RING.

Save for a slight limp, Quinton May didn't act as if he was bashed up a week prior.

A sweeping roundhouse kick to Mike Rogers also dispelled rumours that Quincy's legs were shot to hell after three weeks of opponents taking their liberties with the Rising Star's sudden weakness. Now, all the bodies had hit the floor, and only Quinton May and Phil Atken remained standing.

Atken was nervous, despite the steel chair in his hand. Quinton? He was just enraged.

So, the two men shrugged and ran at each other. Foolish act on May's part, Atken thought, as he raised the chair over his head. But, as he swung... all he got was air.

Quinton had ducked. Phil turned around, frowning.

SMACK

High-leg clothesline to the face. The chair was knocked out of Phil Atken's hands, and the crowd were on their feet now. So was Quinton, if you're still keeping score of this very messy situation. The Canadian Gladiator pulled Atken up and shoved the latter's head in between his legs, hooking the arms a second later.

Time for the ol' HIDEAWAY?

Not if Mike Rogers had a say in it. And he did. Much to the crowd's dismay.

That's right! Mike Rogers had slithered back into the squared circle and stuck his nose in where it didn't belong. Clubbing Quinton across the back of the head, Rogers now unloaded a barrage of kicks upon the Rising Star, while Phil Atken tumbled out of the ring and staggered up the ramp, having had his bit of fun for the night. Chris Messiah had been taken care of.

And that was all Atken cared about.

In the ring, Mike Rogers was saddened, and waddled over to the ropes, screaming for Atken to give him for instructions. A stupid move on the jobber's part, for when he turned around...

SMACK

Quinton clocked him with a particularly devastating chairshot.

The Canadian Gladiator was now standing tall, in the ring, with the bodies of jobber Mike Rogers and Chris Messiah on either side of his trembling lifeform. His eyes were transfixed on Phil Atken, who'd turned around and smugly chortled back at May. The crowd were, while confused over the situation that unfolded, cheering wildly at Quincy's ability to even STAND. Naturally, swear-words were directed at Atken, but he soon disappeared, leaving Quinton to survey the damage he'd caused.

Needless to say, the seemingly trivial relationship between Atken, Quinton, and Messiah had spiralled out of control.

For no apparent reason, too. Early days yet, though.

Very early days.

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

Look For The Girl With The Broken Smile, Part Three

Author - Zezu
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Giving people into serious bother was never Hillary Duncan's favourite part to the day, but given her very high role in a very respected wrestling promotion, she had to partake in the activity more often than she could ever have wished.

In-front of her sat Pat Hallon, the chief of referee's in ACW.

Pat's job was to hire and fire ACW referee based on their performance, and it was also his job to make sure that referee's knew what they were doing for the evening...something which a certain referee earlier in the evening didn't seem to know. 

"I want to get this done very quickly Pat, because we both have work to do for the rest of the show, but I want to know why their wasn't a referee assigned for the last match? You do realise how unprofessional that makes us look..."

"Yes, I do."

"So then what happened?"

"I didn't even know that match was going to take place."

Duncan's brain sat still for what seemed to be the 20th time in the evening.

"What? The match board has been up since three o'clock, how could you not know?"

Duncan was a smart woman, she already knew the answer before Pat moved his lips.

"Kent gave me a new sheet."

She wrapped strands of hair behind her ears and held up her head with her hands, elbows on the table on front of her. "You're dismissed Pat, and I'm sorry for brining you up here."

"That's no problem Miss. Duncan, I know you are having a tough night."

Pat gave a gullible smile and then went off on his way, thinking about the rest of the nights business, leaving Miss. Duncan in her office thinking about the problems of her federation for the night.

"Tough is an understatement."

I Am Your Callous And Biased Response, Part One
Author - Russ
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The crowd was rumbling and somewhat wrestles… Vile Azure and Lancett was up next up next. Right now though, at his this moment. Jagger and the boys had something to say, the bongos where setting it up… and the crowd was about to knock it down.

“Sympathy For The Devil”

Indianapolis responded with raucous applause, absolutely raucous.

The Original Pulp Hero stepped out from backstage to highten the Indiana crowds reaction, that same oddly charismatic style to him. He rose his fists in an Anarchy ‘A’ symbol, clenching his right wrist with his left hand, before walking down the ramp and slapping the hand of an odd fan here and there.

Alias then walked back up the ramp, to the right of the entranceway where the same set-up that Hawk had been interviewed at last week, was present. Two stools, a table, a monitor, and of course ACW's chief interviewer Thomas Kilpatrick.

Some where amazed that Alias had showed up today, having caught his Hardcore Title match in the fWo… all of 10 minutes ago. Lucky the show in Orlando was taped and his flight schedule agreed, so a few stitches and a flight half way across the country later… and Alias was at the ACW show, ready for the interview… pay or no pay. Kilpatrick looked to introduce Alias but the cheers, where still to loud. Evidently SilverHAWK’s “words of wisdom” had yet to reach the masses.

Alias rose a hand in the air, sitting with Kilpatrick and grabbing a mic of his own. 

“Thanks you Indy! It’s great to be back in front of an ACW crowd!”

The crowd popped once more. Eventually the though they quieted, somewhat. Enough for Thomas to interject with his opening words.

“Wow, now you’ve got to love that kind of reaction,” Kilpatrick turned to Alias and the Pulp Hero smiled and nodded, he had come a long way to this point, and was amazed by the great reaction from the ACW faithful. “Now like last week, this interview will have three parts, the past, present and future… so let’s jump right into the past, Alias. I’m sure the crowd, with there co-operation, would love to here what has been going through your mind since the revival of ACW.”

Cheers.

“I’d like your opinion, on how the ACW of this generation, compares to the one you joined, under Ethan Winters during both in the mid-90’s and during the restart of the company in late 2002.”

“The thing with ACW is that, yeah, we’ve always had a talented and diverse core of people to help steer the ship. With the time I’ve been able to spend with the cast that was brought in by Laguna… I honestly think we’ve found a very hopeful crop of people, when it comes to the things we might be able to accomplish. What they have is a lack of that glass ceiling, more or less but I’ll get to that later, that always came with Winters. Winters, as we all know now was holding back a lot of potential, pushing only those see saw fit. I helped in part to deal with that problem sure, and in turned was helped to realize my potential under Dunn and with Kain… but with fresh ownership and a fresh roster, really the possibilities are endless.”

Kilpatrick nods his head solemnly in response, as the Indy crowd cheered on Alias’s respectful words. Kilpatrick skimmed across his notes until he found what he thought was a nice suitable question, in transition.

“Last week SilverHAWK *crowd: boo* alluded to the reason why you where bad for ACW, was because you where a trouble spot backstage. There where some technical difficulties afterwards so we couldn’t get his reasoning behind the statement. Would you care to maybe season a guess as to why he holds these feelings towards you?”

Alias grinned to himself, most likely to hold something back that he wanted to say something but he knew he shouldn’t, not yet. He brought his hand up and ran it across his chin. “I can only assume he still has some altered perspective on what I act like… like he’s stuck in the 90’s. I’ve come a long way from Chris Phoenix… so I guess now, Aaron is just holding on to his powerplay. Anything you can do to get ahead, right? I admit I was a shithead back then, but we all group up. 

Ask any of the younger guys backstage… I can atleast attempt to set a good example. You see when some of us grow up though, we grow old… and by that time you think you’d be wise enough to retire. Aaron’s done that several times… you’d think he’d get the hint by the third time around. He’s become a glass ceiling all by himself and all because no one gets a chance unless he retires… and hell as much as I used to respect him, even a shoot fight with O doesn’t prove that the only place he looks good now, after all these years…

… is on paper, which I guess is fitting for a paper champ.”

“Strong words, Alias.”

“Hey… it’s only a callous and biased reply from a man who was accused of jumping ship when things got rough… hell I can understand when that shit’s directed at ICU, but everything I went through to get to that Championship, as placid and tainted as ol’ Aaron sees it, to be respected within ACW… after not only starting at zero with this fed again, but goddamnit… something below that.

I’ve bloodied, battered and bruised myself for this federation and it’s survival, and always will… everyone here knows that.” Big cheer from the ACW faithful, “But hell I was shoved into moving on after ACW could no longer ‘afford’ to keep not just me… but almost the entire roster.

I didn’t become a mercenary Aaron, oh know… I became something you can’t. I became a symbol of what ACW could have become, what it is now.

Not what it what once was.

Second in Command
Author - Oz
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Smack.

The door hit the wall.

And shit hit the fan. 

“Laguna!” Simian Kade called into the small office space situated in the bowels of the Indianapolis arena. 

“Um… he isn’t here tonight,” her voice had a soothing tone that forced Kade to stop dead in his tracks. 



“Who are you?” he asked after a long pause, “And where is Laguna?” 

“I’m Hillary Duncan, and I’m running this show until Laguna gets back next week.” 

… Uh, what?

“What happened to communication amongst people in this federation. Would it have been that hard to put up a notice of some sort?” 

Hillary rolled her eyes a little, seeing the density that Kade obviously possessed… idiot.

“There is a notice; right outside the door in fact,” she corrected him. 

Simian took a few steps back outside of the door. The nametag read ‘Hillary Duncan’; another example of density from of dear Mr. Kade. 

“Ah,” Kade said, feeling a little embarrassed after reading the notice of the temporary management adjustment. 

“Well, that isn’t the point,” Kade snapped back on topic. 

“The point is my opponent for tonight, Rome the Vile, was not informed about our match. How am I supposed to wrestle without an opponent?” Kade asked. Hillary didn’t look all too impressed. 

“Look Mr. … Kade, I believe it is. I realize that is an obvious inconvenience for you, and I assure you that Rome the Vile will participate in the match with yourself this evening,” she assured him; he looked a little relieved. 

“Thank you,” he said. He was satisfied with her solution to his problem. He quite liked having Hillary as a boss. She may have been second in command to Laguna, but in his mind she was definitely not second best. She wasn’t too bad looking either. He smiled a bit as he walked out of the door, picturing her in that big leather chair. A woman with power; a woman with authority. 

That’s what he liked to see in the opposite sex. 

However, he caught himself before he could go any further, as one thing then crossed his mind. 

Becky. 

Grudge Match
Ville James Azure Vs. Lancett
Author - Josh
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Over the past week Ville Azure has been on a hunt for one man, Lancett. Ville almost killed Lancett last week, thus the ACW bookers have decided to settle this old fashion way, in the squared circle. As this was being commercialized over the local radio stations. Some where awaiting it and some where waiting for this bout to begin so they can get their son that damned Alias shirt. Be careful what you wish for. . .

“Numb” by Linkin Park came to be heard around the arena. The majority (80 / 20 split) booed the living daylights out of this young man as he came from the backstage. He walked down the isle and looking around he saw a sign from a young girl: “Marry me Lancett!” He smiled and walked over to her.

“You want this?” He smirked.

She touched his upper body and rubbed down his body and then he backed up smiling. After this show of public affection he baseball slid into the ring and sprang to his feet. As he reached his vertical base he slowly spread his arms enduring boos and few cheers he got from these lovable Indianapolis fans.


“Lancett Sucks!”
“Lancett Sucks!”
“Lancett Sucks!”


"Cicatriz ESP" by The Mars Volta came on as the chants kept on going. Ville came from the backstage not so calm as Lancett. He made it down to the squared circle in record time, he ran so fast. Lancett took quick exit as the theme song didn’t even get started before it was turned off and replaced by this battle’s opening bell.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” Lancett tried to do the utter most impossible thing: taming this rage.

The people took their seats took watch this beating of two men in tights.

Lancett climbed the stairs and the chants began once more: “Lancett Sucks!”

He looked towards the loveable fans and gave them the almighty “up yours” sign, but before he knew it he was being yanked over the top rope and into the battleground. Ville smiled as he picked him up and throw him into the turnbuckle so hard that it shook the whole ring and Lancett rebounded. Ville wasn’t done though; Lancett got decked with two feet to the chest with a vicious front drop kick.

The Bad Seed took advantage and quickly.

He wasn’t done. Lancett got pulled up the hair and got a knee to the face. Rather yet two… rather yet three… four, five, six! The referee finally got into Ville’s face about how brutal he was and he had to tone it down or else.

Ville walks back to Lancett and was greeted by two fists to the midsection. Lancett rotated on his heels and landed a quick and stiff European uppercut right on target. Another jab to the midsection brought Ville’s head into a bow letting Lancett to take advantage.

Lancett latched a suplex at a blink of an eye and lifted him up. Lancett stalled promoting his strength. Lancett walked a couple steps forward, but Ville bent and countered the suplex by getting to his feet. Lancett was surprised and quickly responded with a quick front flip, hooking the arms of Ville with his leg trying a sunset flip. Ville, with his quickness of mind, rolled out of the sunset flip and connected a ‘Birth Control Method’.

Lancett fell to the side biting his lower lip holding his family jewels. Ville looked up to the yelling referee with a look of disgust, but of course had that sadistic grin in that look of disgust.

Ville went for the cover.

One
Two

Lancett kicked out only to return to holding his crotch. Ville looked at the referee having him only respond with the rock on symbol signaling a two count.

Ville hit the canvas then looked back over to Lancett. Ville stood up really fast only to return to his brutal attack with a stiff kick to the lower back sending Lancett into an arc of pain.

Ville pulled Lancett back up and sent him running into the ropes with an Irish whip. BOOM! Lancett retaliate with a huge springboard shinning wizard onto Azure.


“Holy Shit!”
“Holy Shit!”
“Holy Shit!”

Lancett pulled Ville by his hair to a vertical base. One! Two! Three! He hit his trademark trio snap suplexes. Lancett sprang to his feet all fired up.

Ville reached feet, but at a bad time. Lancett was on the second turnbuckle and as he turned around an inverted bulldog greeted him.

Ville was getting his ass handed to him. BOOM! Once Lancett put his hands on Ville’s batter body he got a recoil attack - Lullaby!

Lancett was sent to the canvas falling backwards. Instead of Ville hitting this at the jaw he landed it right on the forehead of Lancett, cutting him wide open.

Both men where down.

One!

The referee started to count the men down.

Two!

Neither showed any life.

Three!

Still no life, but a person was coming from the backstage.

Four!

This person was none other than Abbey, girlfriend of Lancett.

Five!

Ville started to show some life.

Six!

Abbey reached the ring a look of concern on her face about Lancett due to him being busted wide open.

Seven!

Ville laid his hand on Lancett’s chest.

One
Two
Three!!

Yes! Ville beat him! Ville completed his hunt for Lancett and came out with the W. Abbey slid into the ring as Ville started to show life and try to reach his feet. Abbey bent over next to Lancett to check on him. Ville looked at her and smiled; he seemed to have plans to do something sick and seductive like he normally always thinks. The fans booed.

Lancett’s eyes started to open and got to one knee. The blood tickled into Lancett’s eyes, he had to take his eye off Abbey for split second, and that split second: Ville pulled up Abbey and went for the Lullaby again, but Lancett, seeing this attack coming out of left field, used his last bit of energy to push her out of the way and he got into the way this one connecting right on the dot, right under the chin. Lancett went head over heels.

“LANCETT!” Abbey cried.

Ville took a quick exit under the ropes. As Abbey cried for help, “HELP!”

The medics rushed down to the ring. They took their time making sure his neck wasn’t traumatized anymore. The Lullaby wasn’t a funny move; it was probably the most serious move in all ACW if connected.

They tried to get him on a stretcher. Lancett was too stubborn to get on the stretcher, and tried to go by himself but his body didn’t have the strength to hold him up.

Abbey and some people of the staff helped him getting under one arm brining to the backstage area.

WINNER : Ville James Azure

The Puppet Master's Strings
Author - MikeL
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Bantam Diablo walked down the poorly lit hallway and stopped at a wooden door. He raised his hand to knock on the door and was stopped.

“Can I help you?”

BD looked around and saw Hillary Duncan standing along with him in the hallway.

“Yeah, I’m looking for—“ 

“He isn’t here. I’m in charge tonight.”

BD slowly put his arm back at his side. This little number had herself an attitude. 

He liked it. 

Hillary leaned against a wall and folded her arms. She waited for Diablo to explain himself.

“I need to talk about Alex Draper and his title shot.”

“What about it?”

BD pointed to the bandages around his head. “This is what it's about. Draper is a liability looking to cost this company a lot of green. The guy is a loose cannon with more than one screw loose.”

“Get to the point BD.” Hillary said. She looked bored and BD could tell she had other things on her mind right now.

“It’s about trust. If you can’t trust the guy across from you in the ring, somebody is going to get hurt. Draper is a guy that can’t be trusted in the ring, simple as that.”

“So you want his title shot pulled until he can be trusted? Is that it?”

BD was surprised that Hillary basically read his mind. He smiled. “You’re not just another pretty face, are you?”

Duncan rolled her eyes. “Diablo, I don’t have time to mediate whatever problem you have with Alex Draper. The way I see it, there is no reason why Alex can’t have his match with SilverHAWK tonight.”

“Well,” BD coaxed. “I’d hate to be the one to tell Laguna that you went behind his back and potentially put his wrestler’s at risk…”

Hillary stopped leaning against the wall and uncrossed her arms. “What?”

“Laguna said he would look into the problem with Draper and get back to me on it. But in the meantime, he cancelled his match.”

“So?”

“Laguna hasn’t gotten back to me yet, so I’m assuming he hasn’t looked into the problem yet.”

Hillary motioned for BD to stop. “Fine. You win. I’ll reschedule the World title match.”

“That’s all I ask.” BD said as they parted ways. 

No Run In
Author - Josh
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Lancett pushed open a door with a kick, the blood trickled down to his chin then feel all six feet to the ground to splatter into thousands. Abbey was at his side as he had a disgruntled look on his face gesture due to his loss and to the man that they have just encountered.

There he was, Jesse Ramey, the man Lancett has caused the most trouble to and he just looked right though him as Ramey past Lancett.

“What was that?” Lancett asked as he pulled down his arm to command Abbey to stop.

Ramey looked down and then turned around. “What do you mean, ‘What was that’?”

“I’m talking about me interfering in your match, causing hell for you in the backstage, and all I get in retort is you walking past me? No! Where is when you come out and interfere in my match? When is the time you come out after a match and take advantage of my battered self? What is wrong with you?! I’m mean you are talking to main event material that could get you noticed, Ramey I’m your limelight! I’m the guy who almost had Alias beat! Me: Lancett!” 

Ramey shrugged his shoulders and looked at Lancett. “You need to learn kid. You need to see past all that and see the real reason for wrestling. Having that pay-per-view match against a respective and very good technical wrestler that would match up with your skills. Not a hothead rookie from Peoria, IL. With a boxing background, AFL background, one hit wonder, and a background of being (like he said earlier) a hothead!”

“You got some nerve!” Lancett said standing tall, whimpering from the pain could be seen in his eyes.

“You want nerve? Hmmm, Lancett? Is that what you want? You got it. Here’s nerve: You, me, one on one, ACW Revival Milwaukee, Wisconsin May 9th!”

The fans cheered as they got face to face.

“You are on.”

Ramey smiled and walked away, then looked back. “So I got what I wanted. Thank you rookie.”

Lancett face lowered and Abbey brought her hand to his chest also under his arm because of him being weak from the earlier match. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

The Things I Want
Author - Aaron, perhaps Ray.
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For the past hour or so, he had been doing everything that Kraig Carter commanded. Serving him drinks. Taking any insults that were thrown at him. He even had to mess with a television for thirty minutes straight to make it work for Mr. Carter.

Mr. Carter. He hated that.

Ville was surprised he wasn't wiping Kraig's ass yet. This was outrageous... but, he was trying the get his mind on other things as he began to wrap tape around his wrists. He now had his wrestling gear on and the anticipation of slamming his fist into Lancett's fist repeatedly appealed to him very nicely. This whole night had been Hell thus far, but this would make up for all of it.

As he stood, walking toward the door, Carter stepped out from a seperate room. His voice sounded sarcastic, almost annoyingly so, “Where do you think you're going?” He asked.

Ville cringed, closing his eyes and turning around. “I have a match to win, Kraig. I have to go.”

“Oh, no, no, no. I didn't say you could do any such thing.” Kraig chuckled, shaking his head. Ville had had it. He simply sneered and continued out the door. As he walked down the hallway, he could hear Kraig calling after him. As far as he was concerned, Kraig wasn't even there.

He had a match to win. 

Suitin' Up & Lookin' Tough
Author - George
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The Mammoth was suited up. He stood in his locker room, his huge seven-foot mass casting a shadow across the entire room. Marshall couldn’t even be seen standing behind him, helping to strap on an elbow pad to protect the Mammoth’s huge elbows.

“Steve, you got this. Did you see what I did to Vinnie Copeland tonight? C’mon Steve, tonight’s our night!! Tonight is the night the crowd starts to really respect us!! You’re gonna slop that Jesse Ramey around the ring like a freaking rag doll. If anyone ever wants to call us the Goddamn Action! League again, then they’ll be too afraid to do it after they see your power…” Marshall spoke excitedly. He was trying to get the Mammoth ready for his match, while still calming him down about the whole Action! League thing.

The Mammoth growled. “Yeah, I know I got this. Everybody knows I got this. And I’ll tell you what… I’m gonna tare him apart. And you’re right… No body is EVER going to call us the… the… I’m not even gonna say it, cos the name is dead.”

“That’s the ticket, Steve… C’mon, let’s hit that ring.”

And with that The Act-- err, Marshall and the Mammoth headed out of their locker room and down toward the gorilla position. But, just as they were out of sight, someone else barged into the locker room.

“Alright c’mon, let’s go!! Put ‘em up!!” Geo ran into the locker room, ready for a fight. That was pretty flagrant of him, don’t you think? I mean they could’ve been naked or something… Luckily for him, however, the room was ominously empty. Geo kicked a chair lightly in an ’Aw Man…’ fashion. He left the room and continued his search for the Act-- damnit, again… Marshall and the Mammoth who were already stepping out into the arena for their match with Jesse Ramey. 

Grudge Match
Jesse Ramey Vs. The Mammoth
Author - George
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The opening notes of “A Violent Reaction” by American Head Charge seeped into the arena as the giant known as the Mammoth stepped out into the arena with his partner, Marshall, by his side. The duo was met immediately by boos from the audience. A slight “Action League!! Action League!! Action League!!” chant was attempted, but the crowd just didn’t have the fuel just yet. The Mammoth stepped over the top rope as Marshall slid under the bottom. The Mammoth cracked his knuckles and looked at the crowd. Everyone seemed to be smiling, and he was disgusted. He cracked his neck as…

“Going Down in Flames” by 3 Doors Down bled into the arena and Jesse Ramey stepped out into the arena. The crowd gave him a cheer, obviously liking him much more than they liked the other two guys in the ring. He breezed down the ramp and rolled into the ring. Standing before the Mammoth he, at 5’11”, looked like a child. Ramey’s music faded away and the crowd buzzed for a moment until the referee rung the bell. Marshall hopped out of the ring, and the match began.

The match started real quick with the Mammoth grabbing Ramey and kneeing him in the stomach. Ramey flopped around like, just as Marshall predicted, a rag doll. The Mammoth clobbered Ramey with heavy lefts and rights, and then he tossed him into the ropes. Upon the return, the Mammoth let out a huge big boot. Ramey fell to the mat, and then rolled out of the ring. He was realizing early on that the Mammoth lived up to his reputation of being able to dominate opponents within minutes and Ramey wasn’t about to let this happen.

Ramey rolled back into the ring, this time being a tad bit more cautious. When the Mammoth went for a grapple, Ramey rolled out of site and appeared behind him. When the Mammoth turned around, he felt Jesse’s boots in his stomach. He was too big to fall down, however, and just stumbled back a few inches. Ramey gave him a few chops across his back, but the Mammoth soon blocked one of them and caught Ramey’s wrist. He held his arm up, and although Ramey tried to spin out of it, the Mammoth kicked Ramey in the armpit area and then dragged him over to the turnbuckles where he slapped his face into the post. Ramey violently shuck his head and then stumbled away in a daze.

The Mammoth grabbed Ramey and brought him up into a power bomb. Ramey very quickly found a way of it, realizing that a power bomb from this guy would certainly do him in. Ramey shoved his way away and hung low across the ring. The Mammoth approached him, and Ramey took a kamikaze approach to the match by running at him and then baseball sliding on the mat to kick him in the shin. The risky move paid off and the Mammoth smashed down into the mat. Realizing this was his chance to take him out, Ramey climbed up onto the top rope and waited for the Mammoth to rise. As the Mammoth stood up, Jesse Ramey leapt off the top rope with his patented Touching the Sky (AKA, a split legged moonsault.) The Mammoth again hit the mat hard, and Ramey went for the pinnnn….

One!

Two!!!

Aw, no… The Mammoth easily powered out of the pin, bench pressing Ramey’s body off of him. The Mammoth was now content to absolutely annihilate Jesse Ramey. His huge tree like arms came down on Ramey in a frenzy. The assault didn’t stop for several minutes when finally the powerhouse had Ramey in the corner of the ring. There he laid into his head again, and then put Ramey up on the third rope where he made him sit. Being as big as he is, the Mammoth then gorilla pressed him up into the air and carelessly tossed him onto the mat. The Mammoth then began to try and climb up the ropes, but because he is so big he found it hard to keep his balance with the ropes falling out from under him every time he tried to climb. When he finally made it to the top, he looked like he was at least 20 feet tall. He held his arms to jump, but very soon regretted EVER climbing up those ropes. Aye, Jesse Ramey, having been in the ring for years, got back up and shuck the ropes. The Mammoth wasn’t able to keep his balance, and he came falling straight down onto the family jewels.

“OOOWWWW…” Rumbled through the crowd, everyone could feel the Mammoth’s pain. Ramey, as he had from the beginning, knew that times like this were crucial if he wanted to win this match and so as the Mammoth sat on the turnbuckles in so much obvious pain, Ramey ran up the turnbuckles, grabbed the monsters huge head, and sent them both flying out of the ring and onto the mat with his well-known move, Hangtime!!! The cheered at the perfectly and beautifully executed move. Ramey could feel the crowd behind him, and so he lifted the huge guy up and rolled him on into the ring. Ramey again went for the pin.

One!!

Two!!

“Heey!!! Heey!!!” The referee turned around to find Marshall standing on the apron. Marshall raised his fist, and with knuckles fashioned in brass, he knocked the referee out. Jesse Ramey slapped the mat several more times, trying desperately to get the referee’s attention back. When he turned around, however, he saw that Marshall was now in the ring with a chair.

“What the fu…” Marshall cracked it over Ramey’s head. Ramey fell into the mat, and the Mammoth slowly came to his feet even though he was still suffering from falling on his nuts. The Mammoth laughed at the sight of Ramey on the mat, and smiled at Marshall for his job well done. The Mammoth hooked Ramey’s leg, and Marshall grabbed the referee.

“C’mon, make the count. Wake up, jackass. C’mon!!” The referee slowly came to, and being unable to remember the blatant interference, began making the count.

One!!!

Two!!!!

THRE-- No waaaaay. Ramey kicked out. A chair shot wasn’t gonna be enough to put him down, no sir. The Mammoth’s fists pounded the mat, and the mat soon became Ramey’s skull. The referee came to his feet, and kicked Marshall out of the ring. Marshall grabbed the chair before the referee started making any assumptions. The Mammoth lifted Ramey up into the air and brought him crashing down with a full body slam. He again went for the pin…

One!!

Two!!

Naw, although Ramey looked lifeless at the moment he still had A LOT of fight left in him. The Mammoth brought him back to his feet and shoved him into the ropes. He went for a clothesline, but Ramey ducked it. He went into the ropes, and the leapt up into the air with a bulldog. The Mammoth slammed down onto the mat. Ramey jumped up onto his feet and strutted around, showing his resilience. The Mammoth came back to his feet. Ramey squatted down on the mat and charged at the Mammoth. The Mammoth wasn’t phased by this move, and in fact he held on to Ramey. He brought him up into the air with a power-bomb, and it quickly became known as the Flushaway. The Mammoth hit his running spinning power bomb, and went for the pin. This had to be it.

One…!

Two…!!

Three…!! No!!! The Mammoth was so close, but Ramey kicked out just in the nick of time!! The Mammoth argued it over with the referee, but then finally went on with the match. He picked up Ramey and brought him into the air for a hanging vertical suplex. He held him there for a while, and when they came down it was hard to see what was happening but it appeared as though Ramey was able to flip out of the suplex and bring The Mammoth into a small package!!! The referee shot down to make the pin.

One!!

Two!!

Three!!! How the hell?!!!!

Ramey caught the Mammoth off guard and managed to steal a pin fall! Ramey jumped to his feet and held his arms up as his music began to play again. The Mammoth quickly got to his feet, and he seemed madder than usual. He lunged at Ramey, and Ramey quickly tried to make his way out of the ring but…

THUD!!!! Marshall cracked the chair across Ramey’s head for the second time tonight as he spun around to exit the ring. As he fell backwards he fell right into the Mammoth’s huge hands. The Mammoth hoisted Ramey up in a choke slam and then turned it into the Last Laugh by making it into a spine bomb slam. When the Mammoth got back up, he grabbed the chair from Marshall and started jabbing it into the neck of Ramey. Ramey kicked and screamed, trying to get out of it, but the Mammoth showed no remorse. When he was done, he picked the chair up again and slapped it across Ramey’s chest. Ramey didn’t deserve this; he just won the match fair and square… But the Mammoth didn’t care. (Hey, that rhymed…) He had this match tonight for one soul purpose… To show the world what he was made of. To dominate the match and DESTROY somebody… Anybody. And since he was unable to do it in the match, he did it after it.

The assault continued, with the two of them stomping away at him. The crowd was booing hysterically. Ramey tried to crawl away a few times, but he was starting to give up. Marshall and the Mammoth had a message to deliver, and no body cos stop them… Except perhaps one person… Know why??

“’COS I’M T-N-T!!!! I’M DY-NO-MITE!!!!”

The crowd erupted as Geo Vacton ran out to the ring. He slid in and Marshall tried to move in on him, but Vacton quickly took him out with a super kick. Marshall fell down, and Geo took after the Mammoth. He tried to hit Geo with the chair, but Geo dropkicked it sending it right back at him. As the Mammoth stumbled backwards, Geo grabbed the chair and used what was left of it on the Mammoth. He kicked him in the stomach several times and then tossed him out of the ring. The Marshall was back on his feet, and Geo kicked him into the stomach. Having him bent over forwards, Geo flipped him around and it looked like he might be going for a reverse DDT… But everyone knows that’s not what it really was…

DYNAMITE DROP BABY!!! Marshall’s neck nearly broke as Geo snapped him down to the mat with the other half of the move, a cross cutter. Geo grabbed Marshall and tossed him out of the ring onto the Mammoth. When the two came to, they decided to retreat. The threat of Geo in the ring and the constant “T-N-T!! T-N-T!!” detoured them from trying any harder, so they stormed off… Thoroughly embarrassed and extremely pissed off.

Geo checked on Ramey to make sure he was ok, and after Ramey came to and Geo brought him to his feet, Geo held his arm up to show the crowd that he was the winner of the match that they may have forgotten about… Geo’s music kicked off, and “Going Down In Flames” shot back through the arena. Geo slid out of the ring, and let Ramey have his moment. Geo looked back up the ramp, no sign of Marshall and the Mammoth… They might’ve been out of sight, but they certainly weren’t out of mind. This wouldn’t be the last time they’d deal with Geo.

WINNER : Jesse Ramey

I've Got Proof
Author - [K]
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Phil Atken, ladies and gentlemen! Ain't he a sexy beast?

... Errrm, okay. So, Atken was grumbling to himself as he walked down the hallways of the arena, ready to return to the hotel room for another night of sex with the local whores. He'd been a busy boy on the night, and this despite the fact that he didn't even have a match pencilled in.

Now more than ever, though, the masses loathed the A! Champion. It had been revealed that Phil Atken was the man that was behind the dastardly backstage beatdown of Chris Messiah two weeks ago.

Alright, sure. Not many people like Messiah, unless you're Irish. Or Scottish. One of those. The fact was, people hated Phil Atken more, and with the truth now out in the open, everybody had more of a reason to spite Phil. Not that the Smartest Man In Wrestling Today cared, as he turned a corner and began to whistle softly to himself.

"PHIL! PHIL! CAN I GET A WURD WITH YOUZ?!" the shrill voice of Vespar MacPeterson rang out.

Atken cringed, and the Sexbomb of the New Millenium sighed as he slowly turned around, resigned to the fact that being sexy meant everybody wanted an interview with him.

"That's Mr Atken to you, Vespar! Wait, isn't your real name Chrissykins?" Atken retorted.

Confused, Vespar MacPeterson screeched to a halt in front of the Entertainment Saviour and scratched his head. "Wherever did you hear that from? My real name is Vespar, and I was born in St Petersburg. Anyways, I just wanted to get your input on what happened out in the ring a short while ago, Mr Atken!"

Phil scoffed. "What about it?"

"Well, it's now all but certain to us all that YOU were the one who staged that attack on Chris Messiah two weeks ago, using the talent that he defeated on the same night to do your bidding. Can you give us confirmation, and your reasoning? Also, does this mean that you were the one who attacked Quinton May as well last Thursday?"

YOUR Entertainment Saviour stroked his non-existant goatee and flicked strands of his blonde locks out of his face, looking up at the flourescent lights on the ceiling. He was almost enchanted by them, for whatever reason. This started to creep Vespar out. Immensely.

"Yes." Phil spoke after an awkward silence. "Yes, I admit it. The great Phil Atken was bored two weeks ago, and as a preparation for my Ladder Match, I needed a sacrifice! I've grown tired of using goats, so I talked to those jobbers and gave them each TWO CANADIAN DOLLARS to beat up Messiah. It was funny, HAHA!"

MacPeterson didn't quite get the Atken brand of humour, so he remained silent.

"Anyhoo, you stink. Why do you assume *I* was the one who beat up and crucified Cunt Face last Thursday? Just because Quinton came out earlier and tried to manhandle me? Just a reminder -- I don't do anal, mind you! I'm the A! Champion, I have autographs to sign and press conferences to attend. Long story short, I have PROOF that CHRIS MESSIAH was the one who perpetrated that crucifixtion on Quinton May! YES, I DO! VIDEO FOOTAGE!" Phil Atken squealed, almost succumbing to a Flair-esque stroke right then and there.

Actually, that would be funny, since Atken does resemble Flair in some ways.

MacPeterson wiped the sweat out of his face and tried to look shocked. "OH MY GOD, you don't do anal? I mean, you actually have video footage of this crucifixtion nonsense?"

"I do!" Phil cried out, before noticing that someone was stomping down the hallway, approaching him.

It was none other than...

... Quinton 'the Crucified' May.

"Errrrrm, I think I have to go now, there's a madman that seems to be stalking me. Stay tuned for ATKEN TEE-VEE next week, when I show the world and this crazed lunatic that Chris Messiah is a dangerous man who deserves to be fired from ACW, and from Burger King for that matter! CHEEERIO!" Phil babbled nonsencially, before dashing off.

Vespar turned to semi-growl at Quinton May for ruining the 'interview', but May was having none of it.

He shoved Vespar aside and gave chase, still limping ever so slightly. As he reached the end of the hallway and pushed open the door, though, Quinton clenched his fists and bit down on his lower lip.

Phil Atken had made his getaway. In QUINTON'S car.

Oh yes, this was getting more and more interesting with each passing week.

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

The Secret of Louie Bandry
Author - Wilk
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A shadowy, impassive forest watched on as a black and white police cruiser calmly prowled along the dark and lonely road.

In the backseat, his hands still in handcuffs, Volker stared out the window at every passing house glowing in the distance. His anger began to subside to bewilderment as to how he could have ended up under arrest.

How come it took a week to hear about an injury? He would have expected to heard about it immediately, or even have been fired. But there had been nothing.

Now, all of a sudden, he was under arrest for assault.

But when the houses stopped flying by that he became confused.

It was when he realized that he had been on the road for about an hour and still no police station…

“So, what’s your name?” asked the police officer behind the wheel, who had been silent and frozen up until that point.

“Why the hell does it matter?”

“Hey.” he responded. “That’s that sorta attitude that got you here in the first place.”

“Yeah, whatever. How much longer do I have to wait back here?”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re actually almost there, just a few more minutes.”

Volker sat back and looked up at the rearview mirror. A pair of empty black sunglasses stared back at him. He tried to maneuver to see the rest of the face, but there was no luck.

“So… what’s your name, man?”

“Baldwin, OK. Just keep your eyes on the road.”

“Don’t worry about it.” he started in a clam voice. “If you’ve noticed lately, there aren’t many cars driving by in the other lane. Not many kids to run out in front of the car chasing their ball. In other words, there aren’t many people around here at all.”

“Yeah, so how come the police station is out here? I thought it would be back in the city.”

“Police station? When did I say I was taking you to a police station?”

Volker looked back at the sunglasses, which seems to both glaze at him with a sullen coldness and watch the road attentively, making sure that there was no going back.

“Well, since we have some time before we get there…”

“Let me the fuck out of this car!” Volker yelled, leaning back against the seat and kicking the grating with all his strength. “Let me out of this car or…!”

“Or what? See, that’s the problem with you, Volker. You just can’t seem to understand what you’re dealing with. You just don’t know when you’re staring danger in the face.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked as he leaned forward. “You’re the mother fucker that’s been…”

“Been trying to wake you up before you drive over a cliff, yes. I’ve been trying to open you eyes, but it seems that they’re stapled shut.”

“When I get out of this car.” Volker growled.

“Well… yes, you will be getting out of this car eventually. But by then I’m gonna be long gone and you’re going to have a pretty big headache. I don’t think you’re going to be in too good a mood to do anything about it either.”

“You fuckin piece of shit! Let me the fuck out of here or I swear to God I will fuckin kill you!”

His response was only a small laugh.

“Such empty words from someone who can’t see the big picture. You don’t even realize that you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, no shit! I’m supposed to be at the station and not waiting to die in the back…”

“There’s no Louie Bandry, Volker.”

Baldwin looked up at the rearview again.

“You son of a bitch.” he calmly said.

“Never was. No one has pressed charges against you. Shit, I even asked the people who were sitting there. Some guy with a goatee was carrying your chair and said he was going to sell it on eBay.”

“Oh, you bastard!” he yelled as he rammed his shoulder.

“Imagine that? eBay. And here you are, in this backseat, thinking you were actually under arrest. Alderman and Cleffberg? They were two bouncers that could use a few extra bucks.”

“Fucker! Mother fucker! This isn’t over you piece of shit! I’m gonna…!”

“And here we are.” he said, turning the car off the road.

He drove along a barren unpaved road for about half a mile until he came to another paved road. In the distance about a mile off under the stare of a single street lamp was an abandoned building. He stopped the car and put it into park, letting the headlights stare off into space.

“This should tell you something, Volker.”

“You’re fuckin dead. You hear me.”

“No, Volker. Shut the fuck up! It’s my turn to speak.”

Volker looked back at him, sweat running down his forehead. He was waiting for him to speak, waiting for him to get his point across. But, most importantly, he was waiting for this evening’s finale.

“I could tell that you were blind the first time I saw you.

“This could have all been avoided, Volker. This could have all been a run of my imagination or someone else could have been in that backseat right now instead of you. But you decided to come here and attempt to build an empire for yourself. A fourth riech in the midst of a professional wrestling company.

“I wasn’t about to let something like that happen.

“Blind isn’t walking around with a stick anymore. It’s not letting a dog decide where you go. It’s not living a life without ever seeing the world in which you live.

“Blind is now the likes of you. Living in a world that ignores you, walking around in the puddles of your own shit, trying to rule over a domain that doesn’t exist. Men like you, Volker Baldwin, try to live beyond the rest as if you’re a god.”

“It’s men like you that wait for the heavens to fall because you think you’re going to survive until the end of time. Men like you that wage war for causes that no one will ever understand. Men like you that try to control everyone else because you have nothing else to live for.

“And it’s men like you that men like me must stop.”

Volker stared up, not so much caring for what he had to say but waiting for him to make his last move.

“I’ve seen that stare a million times, Volker. And I’m gonna see it a million more times. That’s the stare of the blind who realize that they are about to see. Yes, Volker, you are going to finally see.

“Just not yet. Not tonight. You have a few more weeks to go before I open your fuckin eyes. Right now… well, you’re going to get a little glance of what I have to show you.

“Sorry it had to come to this, Volker. Let’s just say… this is another brick in the wall.”

He put the car into drive, but kept his foot on the brake.

“By the way, about our friend Louie Bandry.”

His hand picked up a pipe off the passenger side seat. He bent down, preparing to put it on the gas pedal and pushing up against the seat.

“Well, he has a little secret to share with you.”

“Fucker! No, no you piece of shit!”

He opened his door, and stuck one foot out.

“Turns out he was an anagram the whole time. He just wanted say ‘You are blind’. See you at the revival, Volker.”

He shoved the pipe in perfect alignment against the seat and the gas. The tires screeched just as he leapt out of the car.

The cruiser drove forward, full speed ahead.

Volker’s eyes went wide as he stared into the impending future, which in this case just happened to be a brick wall.

The headlight’s glaze became shorter and shorter as the car came closer and closer.

He had no time to think. To react. To prepare.

He just watched and…

In a crash that echoed through the forest for miles in all directions, the police cruiser slammed into the brick wall of the abandoned building.

Glass shattered. Steel bent. Parts flew through the air and landed many feet away.

Then silence.

A crushed car lay still in the middle of a deserted parking lot, steam rising off its carcass and a single surviving headlight staring up into the distance of a cloudy sky. Inside, still handcuffed and blood trickling down from his forehead, lay an unconscious man who had been the victim of a carefully carried out plan.

His eyes were closed; he was blind to reality.

And, in the distance, the faint sound of footsteps could be heard walking away from the accident, echoing through the empty mass of a shadowy, impassive forest. 

Fuck Yout
Author - Aaron, perhaps Ray.
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Ville made his way across the parking garage, toward his car. He could hear horns going off outside as the vibrant city lights and the like called out to him through the opening in the garage. He was being pursued right then by a rather annoyed Kraig Carter... but, once again, to Ville? Kraig wasn't even there.

“Hey!” Kraig called as Ville simply kept on walking. “Where do you think you're going?! Get the hell back here! We've got a deal, remember?!”

As Kraig screamed, Ville reached his car and slowly opened the door. That was it. He had had enough. This was, by far, one of the worst nights he had ever had. As he climbed into the car and slammed the door close, he looked out the window at Kraig. The hatred in Ville's eyes glowed. 

“Fuck you.”

Ville left it at that. He backed the car up, nearly hitting the dumbfounded Kraig Carter in the process, and sped off into the night. A night of heavy drinking awaited him. Perhaps he would get lucky. He needed that. He deserved that.

Meanwhile, Kraig Carter stood and stared out after him. He lifted his bubble pipe, taking a long drag as he tried to make out what he had just witnessed. Only one word could sum it all up: “Damn.”

And that was that. Kraig Carter turned, making his way back into the arena.

And Ville?

Ville was gone.

I Am Your Callous And Biased Response, Part Two
Author - Russ
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The crowd was once again restless until the lights dimmed down, quieting the masses. The crowd was still a little raucous from the aftermath of the Jesse Ramey and The Mammoth match.

The lights came back on, full, and there sat Alias and Thomas Kilpatrick at the right side of the entrance… looking to continue with the interview. Kilpatrick was ready.

“You’ve been a busy man since last November, Alias. What’s it like to be one of the most wanted men in the wrestling world?”

“It’s both surprising… and overwhelming at the same time. I mean, I never expected myself to be in this situation. To be actively part of three of the business’s top federations… it’s very surreal, let me tell you. I can only thank the walls of ACW, for helping shape who I am… enough to give me the confidence to do what I do today.”

“That must one exhausting schedule, though.”

“Yes… yes it is. I mean just this week… I’ve traveled from Florida to Alabama… then had one day to get back to Florida, only to fly to Indy in the same day. Things would be a whole lot easier… if I had; you know a teleporter or some other high speed gizmo.” Alias smiled with his reply.

“Still, with what I’ve done… just being able to be a solid role-player, a reliable person and a trusted worker… I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

You know, as long as I can keep standing.” Alias chuckled a bit as the segment segwayed out to another part of the arena. 

Consider Yourself Engaged
Author - Oz
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What would it be like, he thought. 

How are we going to engage? 

Your first match back from a hiatus always brought jitters and nervousness upon you. It was human nature. The need to impress was consuming you, the need to make money was driving you. And somewhere in between the two would meet. 

His feet smacked against the floor in the Indianapolis arena, he was about to step out onto the stage where he would once again participate in the thing he loved. He would once again engage himself in the chaos that is a professional wrestling match. 

However the engagement came a little early. 

Thwack.

The chair made contact with the back of his skull. Rome fell straight to the floor. He bounced off the cold cement like a ping pong ball bouncing off a paddle. He lay motionless for a few moments before his attacker, Simian Kade, grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him to his feet. 

Kade shoved Rome back into the wall, he was still out cold as the chair lay on the ground at Kade’s feet. He had gotten the upper hand very early in this match, and it appeared as if it might be hard for Rome to recover.

“A little rusty are we Rome?” Kade asked of his dazed adversary. “No matter, we’ll take care of that,” Kade smirked as Rome regained consciousness and was now able to stand on his own two, although with difficulties. Kade lead Rome down the remainder of the corridor as they finally reached the mouth of the arena entrance. 

Kade look at the tech guys who were wondering what they were to do. They didn’t bother playing anybody’s music or cueing any videos. Kade tossed Rome up the small flight of steps leading to the curtain. 

Joshua lay at the top trying to regain a stable sense of thought. 

No time for that however. 

Kade smacked Rome on the back of the head and fed kicks into his ribs. Joshua grunted in pain as Simian once again rose him up to a standing base and tossed him through of the curtain. 

Grudge Match
Simian Kade vs. Rome the Vile
Author - Oz
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Thump.

Joshua hammered the steel floor as his limp body fell through the curtain. Simian Kade soon followed as the fans cheered seeing the action getting under way. Joshua tried to roll away from Kade who was coming on strong, continuing to feed boots to his ribs. 

However Kade let off, giving Rome the chance to regain a semi-standing position. Kade once again tried to apply the pressure, but an arm drag from Joshua sent Simian rolling down the ramp which got a rise from the fans. 

“Lets go Rome!”
“Lets go Rome!”
“Lets go Rome!”

They all chanted in unison. They were taking a liking to ACW’s newest addition. Simian Kade was not however as a closed fist from Joshua connected with the back of his head. 

Oomph! The air was knocked from Kade’s lungs as Rome swiftly punted him right in the midsection. The chants continued as an Irish whip sent Kade spilling into the steel steps. 

Joshua slowly made his way over to his opponent, he was obviously still feeling the effects from that chair shot delivered to him just a few moments earlier. 

“New York sucks!” 
“New York sucks!”
“New York sucks!”

The fans jeered and chanted against Kade as he was having some problems making it to his feet. 

“Shit,” he said to himself as an oncoming knee from Joshua caught Kade just under the chin. He spilled backward into the security barrier. The fans reached down and smacked Kade on the back, they cheered and jeered as another knee caught Kade in the shoulder. 

He winced in pain as Rome quickly brought him to his feet. He rolled his opponent into the ring as the referee called for the bell bringing the actual match itself to life. 

“Simian Sucks!”
“Simian Sucks!” 
“Simian Sucks!”

The insults echoed throughout the arena. The fans loved what they were seeing; which was a mud hole being stomped into the stomach of Kade. 

Thump. 

Thump. 

Thump. 

The kicks thrust the air from his lungs. He coughed in pain as Joshua bounded off the ropes and dropped an elbow into the chest of New York’s Finest. Kade tried to roll away, but Rome grabbed him by the arm and pinned his shoulders to the mat. 

… 1 

… 2 

… Kick out by Kade. 

Rome rose back to his feet as the fans called out that they wanted more. Simian slowly got back up to a vertical base. Hard knife-edge chops followed as Kade was sent reeling into the ropes. 

“WHOO!” 
“WHOO!”
“WHOO!”

They called out as the back of Joshua’s hand connected with the bare flesh of Simian Kade. A crimson glow was showing through on his chest as he gasped for a source of air. Joshua did not let off however, he whipped him into the opposite ropes, while at the same time bouncing off the adjacent ropes. The two met with heavy impact with Simian taking the worst of the blow.

A shoulder block was the move delivered. Result: Kade on the canvas, Joshua on his feet taunting the crowd. 

“Rome the VILE!”
“Rome the VILE!”
“Rome the VILE!”

The crowd cheered as Kade lay on the mat motionless. Rome looked to the
turnbuckle, he was ready to attempt something which was more of a rarity from him in recent times. He scaled the corner, positioning himself just where he wanted to be. Then he flew. 

Smack. 

He nailed the canvas as Kade had rolled out of the way. The attempted elbow had failed, and it left Rome in a heap of trouble.

Simian had similar ideas, he too began to scale the turnbuckle with Rome lying motionless in the center of the ring. He took off, driving the knee into the throat of his opponent. 

Rome squirmed in agony. Kade made the cover. 

… 1 

… 2 

… Thr- 

No. Kade smacked the mat and looked at the referee in disbelief. But not too be distracted, he went right back to work.

He grabbed Joshua by the back of the neck and brought him to his feet. 

Belly-to-belly! Joshua hit the canvas as the crowd began to chant the way of Kade again. 

“New York sucks!”
“New York sucks!”
“New York sucks!”

But it didn’t faze the Sinister Hero as he jumped back to his feet and bounded off the ropes. A leg drop to the neck of Rome sucked the air from his lungs, and the fight from body… or so it seemed. 

… 1 

… 2 

… 3! 

No. Kick OUT! 

Kade could not believe it. He drove his fists into the canvas, and almost into the referee’s face. He got to his feet as the official backed into the corner with Kade in hot pursuit. However his haste almost cost him. School boy. 

… 1 

… 2 

Kick out. Not too be out down, Kade jumped out of the cover, him being the one with more energy was quicker to his feet. He got behind Rome and locked in the ankle lock. 

Joshua was helpless, he was in the center of the ring with nowhere to go. The referee checked on the competitor. Rome was determined not to lose this way. He would not tap. No. 

He could not tap. This was his new start, this was his second chance. And he was not going to begin his second chance uttering the words ‘I quit.’ 

He held true to his promise. The agony and pain that Kade was inflicting was immense. He was out to break Rome’s ankle, but the man from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida was determined not to tap out. 

“I’ll break it Rome! Tap out!” Kade screamed, referring to Joshua’s ankle. There was no response. Only screaming. 

The pain that had taken over most of Rome’s body was almost too much to bear for the ACW newcomer. He had propped himself up on his forearms to try to lessen some of the torque on his ankle. He gasped in pain. Then…

Thud.

His arms had given out. He hadn’t been able to stand the pain. Rome had passed out. 

The referee called for the bell immediately as Kade dropped the hold. He looked down at Rome with a large smile on his face. But, through the unconsciousness and all, Rome knew deep down that he was not pinned, nor did he quit. 

The issue between Kade and himself was far from over. 

As Kade retreated up the ramp, he came to realize the same thing as well. 

WINNER : Simian Kade

Belated Birthday
Author - [K]
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To say that Quinton May was a happy man would be the biggest fib ever.

The past week for the Canadian Gladiator, already semi-detached and despondent from the tragic events of the infamous (and yet unaired) ACW Tribute Show, had served to sap even more life out of his weathered lifeform. For years, he had to struggle and push his body to the absolute limit. In search of answers.

In search of redemption, some could say.

Now, back in the place where he felt right at home, Quinton May had found that while he was hanging in limbo, the world around him progressed and changed. Sure, what was only months felt like years, but Quincy had come to realise that je was powerless to try and comprehend life's complexities and mysteries.

Seated cross-legged on the floor outside of a boiler room, Quincy Mama's head was bowed down, his eyes bearing down on the ants that were crawling about on the cold concrete. Quinton suddenly raised his right hand up, as if he was about seconds away from crushing the ants, but at the last second, he placed his hand on his head.

And massaged the back of it.

His car -- a rental, no less -- had been 'stolen' by Phil Atken. What made it worse was that Quincy's medication was in the glove compartment of the car, which Atken had surely ditched by now, May thought. Sighing, Quinton winced as he leaned back and let his head lean against the wall, now glancing up at the door of the boiler room.

A place he was more than familiar with last year, in his first run with the company.

The meetings of Quinton's Army were more than often held in the boiler room, since the size and the setting of the said-room inspired each member of the faction to devote all their energy and resources to helping the Survivor of M15 accomplish his missions, en route to attaining the answers he craved.

"Hey there, stranger."

Quinton's attention was suddenly broken by a oh-so-sweet voice. Cocking his head to the left, May smiled. "H-Hey. Haven't seen you around for a while. Except for earlier on, but... yeah."

Fejona Min half-giggled, noticing the nervousness inherent in Quinton's voice.

"Yes. That was... quite intense earlier on. Right after my match, too. I'm not quite sure what is going on with you and the other two folks, but I just wanted to see how you were doing. I heard that you were on the receiving end of something rather drastic and dastardly last week." Fejona replied, squatting down beside Quincy, who looked semi-pleased now.

On the other hand, the crucifixtion thing had been brought up again. He didn't like that.

"I'm fine, really." May was quick to point out his condition, before diverting his gaze once again to the door of the boiler room. "It was probably Atken's or Messiah's way of showing that they mean business when they say they're environmentalists with a difference. If anything, the tree got the worst of that ordeal, I hadn't showered after Courage last Thursday."

Fejona... didn't know what to do. Then, her intuitive sense kicked in, and she laughed. Somewhat.

Quincy turned back to look at Fejona, glad that his 'joke' went over well, before HIS intuitive sense kicked in. Realising that he was officially the worst joke-teller ever, May decided to change the topic. To my relief, as well.

"Hey, on the topic of last Thursday, happy belated birthday! I read somewhere that April 15 was your birthday, and I was actually looking forward to meeting you last week, to wish you." Quinton suddenly announced, drawing a surprised reaction from the Cambodian Femme Fatale, who was also plying her trade in theAsylum.

In fact, she was so surprised that she blushed.

Indeed.

Tucking strands of her ethereal hair behind her ears, Fejona leaned in. "Well, thank you very much. That's the reason I didn't show up last week, actually, since I had a celebration with some friends. Again, thank you. I didn't think anyone except my close friends would know, much less expect someone in this company to even care. You should know, they all still think I have some gigantic masterplan going on with Joe Campbell directing orders and such."

Quinton chortled. He had indeed heard of those rumours that were circulating around backstage.

"Yeah, I've heard. I'd just ignore them if I were you, and focus on what you've been doing. Oh, pretty good match earlier on as well. I was secretly hoping you'd beat Messiah, and you came very close!" May offered consolingly, wondering why were there butterflies forming in the pit of his stomach.

And yet again, Fejona Min blushed.

"You're too kind." she replied, smiling sweetly. "Time for me to do something for you; I just heard that Phil Atken stole your rental car. I suppose you'd need a ride back to your hotel, and I... ahh, wouldn't mind making the extra round. Unless your girlfriend's picking you up?"

Quincy Mama froze. For a variety of reasons.

Firstly, Fejona was offering him a ride. His attempts at flirting -- if you could even call it that -- were working. And secondly, the mention of the term 'girlfriend' triggered several instant flashbacks. Which, of course, frightened him. Because of his little problem with flashbacks and the scathing headaches that usually followed.

But, as he and Fejona stood up, gazing into each other's eyes, there was no pain.

"Sure, I'd appreciate that a ton."

Only the makings of what could be termed as a budding friendship. And beyond, who knows what will happen?

"Excellent!" Fejona whispered excitedly, before she grabbed Quinton's right hand and proceeded to trot down the hallway. It was May's turn to blush, but he found himself grasping back tightly on the Cambodian Femme Fatale's hand.

Is love in the air?

... Perhaps. 

“An Addition to The Mission” - Marshall & the Mammoth
Author - George
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The sound of things being thrown around and loud breathing could be heard… This could only mean one thing… No, Fejona Min isn’t finally giving it up to someone cheap… The Mammoth was on another rampage. He finally ended his assault on inanimate objects and stopped in front of the camera to appear on the bigSCREEN. He cracked his neck.

“That’s it!!! I’ve HAD IT!!!! I had a mission in ACW… WE had a mission here in ACW.” The camera pulled away to reveal Marshall by Mammoth’s side. “We had a mission to rid ourselves of the Action! League gimmick and show the world that we were wrestlers behinds the jokes… But you guys just don’t get it. You guys just can’t conceive such a notion that perhaps, just maybe, there’s something more to us!! That maybe we’re better than you thought!! And while we’re out there, putting up the best damn shows possible… What do you do? You chant Action! League!!! You boo us!! You mock us!!! You tease us!!! And what’s worse? You do something so irrespirable. You… You… You chant for GEO VACTON.”

Immediately a roar came over the crowd and the sound of thousands of voices screaming “T-N-T! T-N-T! T-N-T!” filled the arena. That only made the Mammoth madder.

“You chant the name of some no talent loser. You cheer for him. You love him. You admire him. Hell… You WORSHIP HIM!!! Well, let me tell you something… And I’m only gonna say it once… Consider this a warning… Don’t consider it a threat… It’s a promise. If you want to cheer for Geo Vacton… THEN YOU WILL BE FORCED TO WATCH HIM DIE!!!!” Mammoth gripped the mic, all the anger in him coming to the top. He was about to burst. “Get it? …You got it.” He dropped the mic and stormed off with Marshall not far behind him. 

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

Lies, Love, and Lust Part 2
Author - Josh
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Abbey wiped the blood off his face with the wet towel and used her free hand to push the hair from his forehead as she wiped his forehead clean. Lancett’s dark brown orbs looked into the hazel of hers. 

“You are so pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous.”

“Stop please, just stop.” She reddened.

She continued to wipe his face free of the dried crimson liquid. She looked into his eyes and then to the ground.

“What is it, Abbey?” He worried. He grabbed her wrist making her stop wiping his face and looked at her. 

She replied, “Nothing. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She stood up and grabbed her car keys and reached the door.

“What is it Abbey.”

“I’ll tell you later. I must go, I can’t stay here…”

“Abbey!” He yelled as the door slammed in his face.

“What is she doing…?”

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS NOT AIRED 
TO THE TELEVISION AUDIENCE, OR TO THE ARENA CROWD

Look For The Girl With The Broken Smile, Part Four

Author - Zezu
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Let this end. Now.

That was what Hillary Duncan was thinking, and she was very close to her wish. However, as the night slowly became what can only be described as a shambles, she watched as the main man responsible for the current show walked through her door.

Adam Kent.

"I need to ask you a favour."

You would have forgiven her if she laughed in his face and knee'd him in the balls, but she had class.

"What do you need."

"Cancel the main event."

"Come again?"

"I've no found anyone to take the match..."

She needed a seat, and she needed one quick.

She took her time, she didn't want to mince her words.

"You fucking idiot."

And she didn't.

She got back to her feet like a bullet, and quickly got into his face.

"I know what this is all about, you probably didn't even look for an opponent for HAWK, because all you have wanted to do this whole show was make sure that I've failed, and well, you have succeeded, big time. You can't take it that Laguna put me in charge Adam, you can't take the fact that he has more trust in my left finger than he does in your whole body!"

"Bitch."

SLAP

But then...

THUD

She fell to the ground, her head banging off her desk, after a right hand from Kent.

Silence

One in shock, and the other not quiet knowing what he had just done.

And then came the final kick in the stomach.

"Cancel the fucking match, or else."

And then he walked away...

She bled from her lip, and her head throbbed and it was now a true test of character.

Grudge Match
SilverHAWK Vs. ?
Author - Zezu
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Sorry, but not tonight son.

I Am Your Callous And Biased Response, Part Three
Author - Russ
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The future of things to come… ooor atleast the conversation about it.

The lights where once again on Alias and Thomas Kilpatrick and the Indianapolis crowd was excited to see what would happen to finish things off. Kilpatrick looked down at his notebook and you just knew that he was looking to do a little point-counter point discussion with Alias.

“Now Alias,” Kilpatrick started “Everyone is aware that so far, this upcoming PPV is the only ACW show you’ll be getting paid for. So if SilverHAWK retains at ACW Revival, can we expect the PPV to be your last show with the fed?”

Surprisingly or unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long for Alias to answer.

“Simply, no.” The fans cheered and Alias continued. “Don’t expect a loss to Hawk to be swan song in this federation. I won’t stop until I gain retribution against Aaron… and after that… I’ll do whatever I can to make this place, what it has the potential to be. No we don’t need to keep away from the competition and we don’t need to attack them head on either.

We’ll improve… and innovate, like we always have. Simple.”

Kilpatrick nodded politely, as the crowd cheered. He straighted out his noted on the ready-made table, then looked over at Alias.

“Thanks for coming out tonight, Alias. Any final words?”

Alias nodded back to Kilpatrick, happy with what had transpired tonight so far.

“I wouldn’t miss out on it, Thomas. Yeah actually, I do have a little something more to say…” Remember how Alias had thought carefully about his choice of words at the very start of the interview. Well these where the words that he had to be careful about not saying.

“Aaron… Hawk, whatever the fuck you want to be called… what do you honestly think makes you above anyone else. Above these fans? Is it because they treat you like shit? Well you turned your fucking back on them and this company… and hey, sorry but nows a little too late to realize that hindsight is 20/20.

What the hell gives you the right to be walking around with such a damned godhead complex? I wouldn’t be surprised if someone from this new class of talent takes that title from around your waste… you’ve kept momentum soley with your name for the last year, save for 3 fights against the same opponent… more or less.

I just want my shot at you Aaron… and since last week, I know I’ve got it. Revival. We’ll meet again old friend… and I can’t wait.”

The camera zoomed out from Alias’s face, where it had centered itself as Alias concluded his final words. The fans cheered once again… but those cheers where quickly silenced, with a response from backstage… followed by…

“Then why the hell should we wait, Chris?”

SilverHAWK

Boo.

The two ACW legends where immediately in each others faces, nose-to-nose, fists clenched… each man waiting for the other to make the first move. The crowd was rumbling… ready to explode… waiting for this confrontation to explode, itself.

Alias’s arm swung over towards Hawk.

Hawk’s arm swung up towards Alias.

Security made it’s arrival, separating both men as both there fists connected… with air.

The crowd booed at the turn of events.

Still, the fire burned within the eyes of Alias and SilverHAWK as groups of men held them separate from each other. Thomas Kilpatrick lingering at a same distance, to the right.

This war was about to explode once again between these two… for the first time.